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THE 


LIFE   AND   LETTERS 


STEPHEN  QLIN,  D.D.,  LLD., 

LATE  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  WESLEYAN  UNIVERSITY. 


IN     TWO    VOLUMES. 
VOL.    H. 


NEW    YORK: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   PUBLISHERS, 

329    &   331    PEARL    STKEET, 
FRANKLIN    SQUARE 

1853. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  fifty-three,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


CONTENTS 

OF 

THE    SECOND    VOLUME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  DANUBE. HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

Arrival  in  Constantinople — Visit  to  Rev.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamlin — Journal 
on  the  Danube — Fortress  of  Widin — Village  of  Calofat — Ridge  of 
the  Carpathian  Mountains — Scala  Gladova — A  wattled  Village — 
Gladonitza — Dress  of  the  Servian  Peasantry — The  Iron  Gate — Fort 
Elizabeth  —  Lazaretto  at  Orsova  —  Women  prematurely  old  and 
ugly — Passes  of  the  Danube  —  Ancient  Roman  Road — Servian 
Castle  Romor — The  River  muddy  and  swift — Semendria — Trian- 
gular Fort — Servian  Village — Fortress  of  Belgrade — the  Banat — 
Semlin  a  Place  of  great  Deposit — Castle  of  Huniades — Hungarian 
Passengers  reckless  and  boisterous — Peterwardein  a  strong  For- 
tress— Illok  a  Station  of  the  Boat — Willow  the  most  common  Tree 
on  the  Danube — Village  of  Mills — The  Hungarians  a  good-looking 
People — Abasement  of  the  common  People — A  City  of  Cottages — 
Dress  of  the  Peasantry — Hungary  the  Shield  of  Europe — Valley  of 
the  Danube  the  largest  and  most  fertile  in  Europe — Want  of  Culti- 
vation—  of  more  Enterprise  —  Hungarian  Gentlemen  —  Pesth,  a 
fine-looking  City — Great  Freshet  in  1838 — Buda  opposite  Pesth — 
Toll-bridge  where  only  the  Poor  pay  —  Iron  Bridge — Hungarian 
Diet — Illness  in  Vienna — Voyage  Home Page  9 

CHAPTER  II. 

REST    AND    RECOVERY. 

Winter  in  Georgia — Resides  with  his  Brother  in  Salisbury,  Vermont 
— Changes  in  the  Home  Circle  —  Letter  to  Mrs.  Dwinnell — Re- 
moves to  Poultney — Prepares  Journal  in  the  East  for  Publication 
— Record  of  his  religious  Feelings — Entire  Consecration — Perfect 
Peace — A  memorable  Interview . .  29 


Letters  written  in  1841  and,  1842. 

63   To  the  Rev.  Bishop  Andrew-Journal  Letter -  -  -Page  39 

64!  To  Miss  Mary  Ann  E.  Howard-Winter  in  Vermont  instead 

of  Georgia— Blessed  Hopes 

65   To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon-A  faithful  Minister         .-.     4* 
66.  To  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Palmer-Unnnmbered  Blessings-Doctrine    ^ 

of  Christian  Holiness ,"«r"  V"     AK. 

67  To  the  Rev.  James  Floy-Loss  of  Friends-Social  Wants 

68  To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Memam— Desire  to  visit  his  Family  m  llli- 

46 

69.  To  the  Rev.  Bishop  Andrew— Acquaintance  with  Grief— Re- 

vivals   "  * " "  r 

70.  To  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Palmer— Circumstances  appointed  by  Provi- 

dence the  best  for  us 50 

71.  To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon— Advantages  of  Retirement— 

Self-scrutiny 53 

72.  To  the  Rev.  Dr. .—Methodism— The  Itineracy 55 

73.  To  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq.,  on  the  Death  of  his  Father 58 

74.  To  Dr.  Olin— From  Bishop  Andrew,  on  the  Death  of  his 


Wife. 


60 


75.  To  the  Rev.  Bishop  Andrew— Deep  Affliction 61 

76.  To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon— Love  of  Preaching 63 

77.  To  the  Same— Perfect  Trust  in  Christ 64 

78.  To  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq.— Touching  Remembrance 65 

79.  To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon— Reason  for  going  to  the  Wes- 

leyan  University 66 

80.  To  the  Rev.  William  M.  Wightman — Southern  Christian  Ad- 

vocate— Preparation  of  Travels 67 

81.  To  J.  O.  Walker,  Esq. — Respect  and  Affection 69 

82.  To  Mr. .—Theoretical  Difficulties  in  Religion 70 

CHAPTER  III. 

DR.  OLIN    AT   THE    WESLEYAN  UNIVERSITY. 
BY  REV.  DR.  HOLDICH. 

Dr.  Olin's  Election  to  the  Presidency  in  1839 — Letter  from  the  Com- 
mittee of  Correspondence — Dr.  Olin's  Reply — Resigns  shortly  after 
his  Return  to  this  Country— Election  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bangs — Dr. 
Bangs'  Resignation — Dr.  Olin  re-elected  in  August,  1842 — Letter 
from  the  Hon.  Seth  Sprague — Inducements  offered  to  insure  his 
Acceptance— Trying  Period  to  the  Institution— Character  of  Dr. 


CONTENTS. 


Olin's  Administration — Successful  Efforts  in  regard  to  the  Finances 
— Effective  Addresses — Sketch  of  one  delivered  before  the  New 
York  Conference — Power  over  the  Sensibilities  of  his  Audience — 
Evening  Services  in  the  Chapel — Address  at  a  Concert  of  Prayer 
for  Colleges  —  Freedom  from  scholastic  Expressions  and  cant 
Phrases — His  Religion  not  obtained  from  Books  or  human  Teach- 
ing— Conversation  with  a  Friend — His  Reading — More  a  Thinker 
than  a  Reader — Influence  upon  the  Character  of  the  Students — 
His  Baccalaureate  Addresses Page  73 

CHAPTER  IV. 

FIRST  DAYS  IN  MIDDLETOWN. PUBLICATION  OF  TRAVELS  IN  THB  BAST. 

HIS    MARRIAGE. 

First  Days  in  Middletown — Preaches  for  the  first  Time  in  Six  Years 
— Visit  to  New  York — Superintends  the  Publication  of  his  Travels 
in  the  East — Favorable  Reception  of  the  Work — Opinions  of  it — 
Address  at  the  Genesee  Wesleyan  Seminary — Remembrances  of 
his  Preaching — Address  at  the  Anniversary  of  the  Bible  Society — 
at  the  twenty-fourth  Anniversary  of  the  Methodist  Missionary  Soci- 
ety— at  the  laying  of  the  Corner-stone  of  a  Church  in  Norfolk  Street, 
New  York — Sketch  of  his  Friend,  Dr.  Few — His  Marriage — Vaca- 
tion in  New  York — An  Evening  in  Company  with  Margaret  Fuller 
— Opening  of  the  College  Term  —  Hopeful  Anticipations  —  Good 
Counsels — A  Month's  Labor  in  New  York — Return  to  Middletown 
— Sermon  in  the  College  Chapel — Visit  to  Boston — Illness. . .  102 

Letters  written  in  1843  and  1844.  • 

83.  To  the  Rev.  William  M.  Wightman — Religious  Prosperity — 

Decline  of  the  Missionary  Spirit 123 

84.  To  his  Sister,  Miss  C.  Olin— Plans  for  the  Summer 125 

85.  To  the  Rev.  S.  Olin,  from  the  Rev.  Bishop  Andrew — on  his 

Restoration  to  Health 126 

86.  To  the  Rev.  Mr. . — "  Old  Saws  and  modern  Instances".  127 

87.  To  the  Same — Ambitious  Aspirations — Liabilities  they  in- 

volve    128 

88.  To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon — Town  and  Country  Lire 129 

89.  From  the  Rev.  Dr.  Few  —  Christian  Friendship — Mountain 

Scenery — Tribute  to  a  Friend 130 

90.  To  a  young  Friend — Love  of  Preaching — Agency  of  Faith. .  134 

91.  To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon — Incidents  of  a  Journey 136 

92.  To  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq.,  on  his  Marriage 137 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

93.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock— Friends  among  young  Men- 

Criticism  on  the  first  Volume  of  Travels  in  the  East.  Page  318 

94.  To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Landon— Love  for  Christ  and  the  Gospel.   139 

95.  To  the  Rev.  Dr. .—Assurances  of  Friendship— Article 

in  the  North  American  Review 140 

96.  To  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq.— Letter  of  Congratulation 141 

97.  To  the  Rev.  Dr. .—Reply  to  an  Article  in  the  North 

American  Review 142 

98.  To  the  Rev. .—Protest  against  Overwork— Religion 

can  make  us  happy 144 

99.  To  Mrs.  Olin— Journal  Letter— Journey  by  Land  to  Middle- 

town 145 

100.  To  the  Same— Labors  for  the  University 146 

101.  To  the  Same — The  Spirit  which  he  carried  into  this  Work.  147 

102.  To  the  Same — Duties  met  in  a  Christian  Spirit  give  Value 

to  Life 148 

103.  To  the  Same— Memory  and  Hope 149 

104.  To  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq.— A  new  Home 151 

105.  To  the  Rev.  Leroy  M.  Lee — Sermon  on  the  Ministry 152 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1844. 

An  eventful  Conference  to  Dr.  Olin — Case  of  Rev.  F.  A.  Harding — 
Dr.  Capers  proposes  that  a  Committee  of  Six  be  appointed  on  the 
Question  of  Pacification — Dr.  Olin  earnestly  seconds  the  Resolution 
— He  is  appointed  one  of  this  Committee — Report  of  the  Commit- 
tee— Mid-day  Hour  of  Prayer  in  the  General  Conference — Resolu- 
tion offered  by  Mr.  Griffith  —  Mr.  Finley's  Substitute  —  Dr.  Olin's 
Speech  upon  it — Expressions  of  Regard  from  a  young  Southern. 
Friend — Letter  to  his  Wife  and  to  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq.,  on  the 
great  Question  at  Issue — Votes  for  Mr.  Finley's  Substitute — Ex- 
presses his  Opinion  on  the  Import  of  its  Language — Letter  to  his 
Wife— His  Spirit  and  Bearing— Strong  Expression — Testimony  of 
Rev.  Dr.  Capers 155 

CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD    FRIENDS. — BACCALAUREATE    ADDRESS. NIAGARA. SERMON    AT    THE 

OENESEE    CONFERENCE. 

Visit  from  dear  Southern  Friends— An  Interview  under  Circumstances 
of  peculiar  Interest — Mrs.  Martin's  Reminiscences  of  his  Preaching 
—Frequent  Journeys  —  Extemporaneous  Preaching  —  Contrasted 


CONTENTS.  Vll 


with  the  written  Sermon — Visits  the  Oneida  Conference — Niagara 
— Regard  for  the  Sabbath — "Tongues  in  Trees" — The  Genesee 
Conference — Conversation  with  the  Rev.  Bishop  Mainline — Ser- 
mon in  the  Grove Page  182 

Letters  written  in  1844. 

110.  To  the  Students  of  the  Wesleyan  University — Wishes  and 

Counsels 1 93 

111.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bond — The  Providence  Conference — Bish- 

op Hedding 195 

1 12.  To  Dr.  Palmer — Inability  to  reproduce  a  Sermon — Bishop 

Hamlin , 196 

113.  To  the  Rev.  William  M.  Wightman,  on  the  Division  of  the 

Church 198 

114.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock — Privations  and  Blessings 202 

115.  To  the  Rev.  S.  Landon — Prayerful  Retrospect 203 

CHAPTER  VII. 

VISIT    TO    WASHINGTON    AND    BOSTON. FUNERAL    SERMON. A    MISSIONA- 
RY'S   MARRIAGE. 

Sermon  in  the  Capitol — in  Charles  Street  Church,  Baltimore — in  Mid- 
dletown — Visit  to  Boston — Reminiscences  of  Rev.  Abel  Stevens — 
Articles  on  Collegiate  Education — Baccalaureate  Address — Sermon 
on  the  Death  of  two  Students — Appointment  of  a  recent  Graduate 
as  Missionary  to  Africa — Bridal  Ceremony  at  the  President's  House 
— Religious  Exercises — Voyage  to  Savannah — Return 206 

Letters  from  January,  1845,  to  May,  1846. 

116.  To  John  M.  Flournoy,  Esq. — Requisites  for  domestic  Hap- 

piness— Church  Difficulties 212 

117.  To  Mrs. .—A  Vocation 214 

118.  To  his  Sister — Days  full  of  Occupation — Securities  for  Hap- 

piness   215 

119.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock— Want  of  Moderation 216 

120.  Our  Colleges — Graduates  of  the  Wesleyan  University — A 

large  Liberality  needed 217 

121.  Collegiate  Education — Duty  of  Parents — An  acceptable  Of- 

fering— The  Working  Classes  give  the  Country  its  stron- 
gest Minds  as  well  as  its  strongest  Hands 219 

122.  Collegiate  Education  —  Duty  of  young  Men  —  Important 

Changes  begin  with  the  Young — True  End  of  Education 
— Well-trained  Laborers  needed — Resources  of  a  culti- 

B 


Viii  CONTENTS. 


vated  Intellect — Elements  of  true  Greatness — A  Crisis 
in  Youth  decisive  of  Character  and  Destiny — Struggle 
with  adverse  Circumstances — Suggestion  to  Pastors  and 
Teachers Page  224 

123.  To  the  Editor  of  the  Christian  Advocate  and  Journal — 

Clear  and  decisive  Testimony 235 

124.  From  Rev.  Mr.  Hamlin,  Constantinople — Note  to  Rev.  Mr. 

Homes — Mr.  Homes'  Reply — Distinct  Recollections  con- 
cerning the  Bridge  from  Mount  Moriah  to  Mount  Zion . .  238 

125.  From  Rev.  Mr.  Hamlin — Extract  from  Journal  of  Rev.  Mr. 

Homes 242 

126.  From  Mr.  Catherwood — Confirming  Dr.  Olin's  Statement  on 

the  Subject  of  the  ancient  Bridge 243 

127.  To  Mr. . — Happy  Prospects — High  Responsibilities 243 

128.  To  the  Editor  of  the  Christian  Advocate  and  Journal — Evils 

of  Controversy — Desires  for  Peace 245 

129.  To  his  Brother 250 

130.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock— Invitation  to  Rhinebeck 251 

131.  To  Mrs.  Olin — Journal  Letters — Proposed  Voyage  to  Savan- 

nah    251 

132.  Ship  Celia — Accommodations— Fellow-passengers 252 

133.  Rough  Sea — Variety  of  Character 254 

134.  Brilliant  Moonlight— Meditation — Storm  at  Sea — Long  Voy- 

age—Life of  a  Sailor— Beauty  of  the  Sea  and  Sky— Hal- 
lowed Recollections— Thanksgivings 257 

135.  Arrival  at  Savannah— Under-tone  of  Sadness 263 

136.  Friends  in  Charleston 264 

137.  To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Merriam,  on  the  Death  of  a  Brother-in-law . .  266 

138.  To  a  Graduate  of  1845— Speculative  Difficulties  in  Religion .  268 

139.  To  Mrs.  Olin — Visit  to  Boston — Incidents  of  the  Journey..  270 

140.  To  Mr.  J.  R.  Olin— Revival  in  Middletown ". ".  272 

141.  To  the  Same — Reasons  for  going  to  Europe 273 

142.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock— Farewell  Words 274 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    EVANGELICAL    ALLIANCE.— TWO   MONTHS    ON   THE    CONTINENT. 

Proposal  to  form  an  evangelical  Alliance— Invitation  from  British  to 
American  Christians— Cordial  Response— Dr.  Olin  appointed  a  Del- 
egate-Favorable Voyage  to  England-Sunday  in  Liverpool— Let- 
ter to  Professor  Smith-Three  Weeks  in  Paris-Preaches  in  the 
Wesleyan  Chapel. 


CONTENTS.  IX 


144.  Letter  to  the  Students  of  the  Wesleyan  University — Ter- 

rible Rail-way  Accident — Painful  Scenes — Uncertainty 
of  Life  —  Thankfulness  —  Arrival  at  Douay  —  Visit  to 

Bruges Page  280 

The  Rhine — The  Bernese  Oberland — Fribourg — The  Grindelwald — 

Lake  of  Thun  —  Hotel  Belle vue — Lausanne,  Hotel  Gibbon — The 

Signal — Chamouni. 

145.  Letter  to  Professor  H.  B.  Lane — Sketch  of  his  Journey — 

Plans  and  Prospects 288 

Extract  from  his  Journal — The  Alps — London — The  Evangelical  Al- 
liance—A glorious  Assemblage — Its  Harmony — A  disturbing  Ele- 
ment— Close  of  the  Conference — Farewell  Letter — Eighty-one  Pul- 
pits occupied,  on  the  23d  of  August,  by  Members  of  the  Alliance — 
Public  Breakfast  at  Sir  Culling  Eardley  Smith's — Breakfast  at  Cen- 
tenary Hall — Dinner  at  Dr.  Alder's. 

146.  Letter  to  Professor  A.  W.  Smith — The  Evangelical  Alliance .  302 

147.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Floy— Same  Subject 303 

Extract  from  Journal — Gunnersbury,  the  beautiful  Place  of  Thomas 

Farmer,  Esq. — Theological  Institution  at  Richmond — Ramsgate — 
Dover — Rev.  Dr.  Croly's  Church — The  Church  Service  —  South- 
ampton— The  Isle  of  Wight — Rev.  Dr.  Scoresby — Netley  Abbey — 
Ryde — Brading — The  Dairyman's  Cottage — Truth  of  Legh  Rich- 
mond's Descriptions — Wesleyan  Chapel — Launch  of  the  John  Wes- 
ley— Letter  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Beecham — Voyage  Home — Sermon 
from  Rev.  Dr.  Mason 306 

Letters  written  in  the  Autumn  of  1846. 

148.  To  his  Brother — Affectionate  Solicitude — Evangelical  Al- 

liance    312 

149.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock,  on  the  Death  of  his  Child 314 

150.  To  the  Rev.  Seymour  Landon — Old  Friends — Good  Resolu- 

tions     315 

151.  To  the  Rev.  Abel  Stevens — Evangelical  Alliance 317 

152.  To  the  Same— Same  Subject 320 

•  CHAPTER  IX. 

HOME    LIFE. 

Illumination  of  the  College — Illness — Patience — Cheerfulness — Meet- 
ings of  the  American  Branch  of  the  Alliance — Regular  Routine — 
Reading — Life  of  Chalmers — His  Conversation — Remark  of  Dr. 
Wightman — His  genial  Spirit — Careful  Regard  to  Troth — Tender 


CONTENTS. 


Affection  for  his  Children— Solicitude  for  them— The  last  ten  Years 
of  his  Life— Memoranda  of  his  Preaching— Address  at  the  Opening 
of  the  Missionary  Hall— Hymn  for  the  Dedication  by  Mrs.  Sigour- 
ney — Baccalaureate  Address Page  327 

Letters  written  in  1847  and,  1848. 

153.  To  Mr.  James  Strong — Pastoral  Customs  in  the  East 342 

154.  To  Mrs.  Olin — Report  to  New  England  Conference — Father 

Taylor,  the  Mariners'  Preacher 342 

155.  To  the  Rev. . — Epistolary  Correspondence 345 

156.  To  Mr.  and  Mrs. ,  on  the  Death  of  their  Child 347 

157.  To  Mrs.  Olin — Journey  to  Binghampton 349 

158.  To  the  Same — Journal  Letter  from  Northampton — Congre- 

gationalism    351 

159.  To  his  Niece,  on  her  Marriage 353 

160.  To  Mrs.  Olin— Liberality  of  Sentiment 354 

161.  To  the  Same — Ascent  of  Mount  Holyoke — Details  of  the 

Water-cure 356 

162.  To  the  Same — Anticipations — Regrets — Solicitudes 359 

163.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock— The  Rest  that  remaineth  for 

God's  People 360 

164.  To  Mrs.  Olin — Progress — Benefits  from  an  Experiment  of 

the  Water-cure 361 

165.  To  Mr.  J.  R.  Olin— God's  Mercies  to  an  Invalid 362 

166.  To  Mrs.  J.  R.  Olin— The  bright  Side 363 

167.  To  his  Brother— Daily  Life— Time  a  Part  of  Eternity 364 

168.  From  the  Rev.  Charles  Mallory — Renewal  of  Correspond- 

ence— Life  a  Dream — Personal  History 366 

169.  To  the  Rev.  Charles  Mallory — Reasons  for  a  Suspension  of 

Correspondence — The  Evangelical  Alliance — Christian 
Friendship — Delightful  Anticipations 369 

170.  To  the  Rev.  Charles  Pomeroy — Struggle  with  Infirmities — 

Lowly  Views 372 

171.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock,  on  the  Death  of  President 

Emory 374 

172.  To  his  Brother— Affectionate  Solicitude ., 37G 

173.  From  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock,  on  the  Death  of  Robert  Em- 

ory, D.D 377 

174.  To  his  Wife— Visit  to  Falkner's  Island 379 

175.  To  his  Brother — Submission — State  of  the  College 380 

178.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lee,  on  the  Life  and  Times  of  Rev.  Jesse 

Lee .  381 


CONTENTS.  XI 


177.  To  the  Same — Invitation  to  Middletown Page  383 

178.  To  the  Rev.  Abel  Stevens— Philosophy  of  Methodism— The 

Want  of  our  Day 385 

179.  To  Mrs.  Garrettson  on  her  ninety-sixth  Birth-day 386 

180.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock— Demand  for  cultivated  Minis- 

ters— Error  of  Conservatives — Apology  for  offering  Ad- 
vice   389 

181.  To  the  Same — Punctuality  as  a  Correspondent — Old  Friends 

— Christian  Nurture 391 

CHAPTER  X. 

ILLNESS    IN    NEW    YORK. REMINISCENCES    OF    HIS    SOCIAL    CHARACTER. 

Session  of  the  New  York  East  Conference  in  Middletown — Illness  in 
New  York — Visits  of  his  Brethren — Religious  Feelings — Calm  and 
Clear  Testimony — Unexpected  Election — A  Thought  on  the  His- 
tory of  the  Apostle  Peter — Return  to  Middletown — Semi-centen- 
nial in  Middlebury — Eulogy  by  the  Hon.  Myron  Lawrence — Visit 
to  Poultney — Joins  his  Family  at  Rhinebeck — Missionary  Festival 
—  Baptism  of  his  youngest  Child  —  Letter  of  Reminiscences,  by 
Miss  Garrettson— Dedication  of  the  Indian  Hill  Cemetery  at  Mid- 
dletown    393 

Letters  from  January,  1849,  to  April,  1851. 

182.  To  Mrs.  Olin— Missionary  Meeting  in  Baltimore — Deep  In- 

terest in  Missions 402 

183.  To  his  Brother 406 

184.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Floy— Letter-writing 409 

185.  From  the  Rev.  B.  H.  Capers — By-gone  Days 410 

186.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock — Sermon  on  early  Training..  408 

187.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Floy,  on  the  vacant  Chair  in  the  University.  409 

188.  To  the  Rev.  B.  H.  Capers— Review  of  the  Past 410 

189.  To  the  Rev.  Abel  Stevens 412 

190.  To  W.  S.  Studley— Necessity  of  a  thorough  mental  Train- 
ing    413 

191.  To  Mrs.  Olin— Uncertainty  of  Life 415 

192.  To  J.  O.  Walker,  Esq.— Official  Obligations 416 

193.  To  the  Rev.  S.  Landon— Friendly  Visits— Sanctified  Afflic- 

tion    417 

194.  To  Mr.  W.  W.  Runyan,  on  Preparation  for  the  Ministry  . . .  418 

195.  To  Dr.  W.  C.  Palmer — Recovery  from  Illness  —  Religious 

Reminiscences 419 

196.  To  Miss  Caldwell— Heavenly  Discipline 420 

A2 


CONTENTS. 


197.  ToMrs.  Olin  —  Journal  Letter— Weariness  of  Traveling — 

Montreal — Burlington Page  421 

198.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  M-Clintock,  on  his  Return  from  Europe — 

Wesleyan  Agitation 423 

199.  To  the  Same — Invitation — Christian  Love  and  Confidence.  424 

200.  To  Mr.  J.  V.  Bradshaw,  on  the  Death  of  his  Son 425 

201.  To  Mrs.  Dwinnell,  on  the  Death  of  her  Husband — The  World 

poor  without  Christ 427 

202.  To  his  Brother — Burden  of  unsatisfied  Responsibilities 428 

203.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Floy — Sympathy  with  Family  Affliction  . .  430 

204.  To  Mr.  J.  R.  Olin — Thoughts  of  Heaven — Assurances  of 

Affection 431 

205.  To  his  Wife — Dr.  Upham's  Works — Preaches  in  Boston — 

Intense  Cold 433 

206.  To  Stephen  Henry  Olin — About  Boston — Sleighing 434 

207.  To  his  Wife — Journal  Letter 435 

208.  To  the  Rev.  Abel  Stevens — Pleasant  Recollections  of  Bos- 

ton    437 

209.  From  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lee — Article  in  the  Quarterly — Philoso- 

phy of  Methodism — Destiny  of  the  Educated 437 

210.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lee— Southern  Friends — Calvin  and  Ser- 

vetus — Southern  Quarterly  Review 439 

211.  To  Mr.  James  Strong— Demand  for  sanctified  Scholarship.  441 

212.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wightman— The  Wofford  College— Its  Lo- 

cation— Constructions — Modern  Innovations 443 

213.  To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Deems,  on  Family  Prayer 445 

214.  To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Floy— Inability  to  make  an  Address— Long 

Suspension  of  Christian  Activity  a  severe  Trial 447 

CHAPTER  XL 

CLOSING    SCENES. 

Last  Sermons  in  New  York — Lectures  on  the  Theory  and  Practice 
of  scholastic  Life — Interruption  in  their  Delivery — Visit  to  New 
York — Unable  to  attend  the  annual  Conference — Appointed  a  Del- 
egate to  the  General  Conference— Illness— Visit  from  an  old  Friend 
—Illness  and  Death  of  his  youngest  Child— Commencement-day— 
Parting  with  his  Child— Farewell  Words— Trust  and  Confidence- 
Death — Funeral  Services 


CONTENTS.  X1U 


CHAPTER  XII. 

REMINISCENCES    OF    STUDENTS. 

Qualifications  for  influencing  young  Men — His  especial  Mission — 
Tribute  to  his  Memory,  by  Mr.  W.  J.  Burton — Recollections  of  Pro- 
fessor Lippett — Stringent  Discipline — Interest  in  the  Students — in 
Missions — Method  of  Study — Effect  of  his  own  early  Training. 

Reminiscences  of  Mr.  R.  0.  Kellogg — Dr.  Olin's  Return  from  Europe  in 
1846— Reverence  for  his  Character — Exalted  View  and  Theory  of 
Right  —  Ready  Appreciation  of  good  in  Others — Genial  Humor — 
Power  over  Language  —  Clearness  and  Scope  of  Thought — His 
example  a  Stimulus  to  Effort — Impression  produced  by  his  last 
Baccalaureate. 

Valedictory  of  the  Class  of  1851 Page  462 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

RECOLLECTIONS    OF    DR.  OLIN,  BY    THE    REV.  ABEL    STEVENS. 

Charity  and  Humility — Social  Character — Warm  Affections — Schol- 
arship— Original  Powers  of  his  Mind — Comprehensiveness — Ener- 
gy of  Thought — Power  in  the  Pulpit — Oratorical  Defects — Massive 
Thoughts — Incident  in  his  early  History — Elaborate  Style — Phys- 
ical Development — Cause  of  his  ill  Health — Conservative  in  his 
Opinions — A  warm  Friend  to  theological  Education  in  his  own 
Church — to  the  Missionary  Enterprise — His  Death 475 

Sketch  of  Character  by  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock — Intellectual  Being — High 
Morality — Humility  and  Charity — Singleness  of  Aim — Genial  Na- 
ture— Power  in  the  Pulpit — His  Life,  Spirit,  and  Death  embodied 
in  a  Strain  of  Wordsworth's. 


LIFE   AND   LETTERS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  DANUBE— HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

DR.  OLIN  sailed  from  Smyrna  on  the  5th  of  June  for 
Constantinople,  where  he  arrived  on  the  llth.  After 
making  some  short  excursions  in  this  beautiful  city, 
and  enjoying  delightful  intercourse  with  the  American 
missionaries,  he  went  to  bed  with  a  fever,  which  con- 
fined him  to  his  room  for  eight  days.  The  discomfort 
of  this  illness  was  greatly  alleviated  by  the  kind  at- 
tentions and  Christian  hospitality  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ham- 
lin  and  his  wife,  in  whom  he  was  truly  happy  to  rec- 
ognize the  sister  of  his  dear  friend,  the  Rev.  Samuel  C. 
Jackson.  After  his  recovery,  he  spent  a  week  in  ex- 
ploring, with  his  usual  indefatigable  energy,  the  city 
and  its  environs ;  and  from  the  ample  notes  made 
of  these  excursions,  of  his  ten  days  in  Athens,  his  fif- 
teen days  on  horseback  among  the  mountains  and  val- 
leys of  the  Morea  and  Continental  Greece,  and  of  his 
voyage  up  the  Danube,  it  occurred  to  him,  after  the 
publication  of  his  "  Travels  in  the  East,"  to  prepare 
two  volumes,  uniform  with  these  in  size.  In  pursu- 
ance of  this  design,  he  had  already  written  out  for  the 
press  his  observations  on  Greece  and  Constantinople, 
A2 


10  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

when  he  was  induced  to  abandon  the  idea  of  publica- 
tion ;  and  the  notes  on  the  Danube,  intended  to  form 
the  basis  of  a  second  volume,  were  left  in  the  rough. 

On  the  29th  of  June,  he  bade  farewell  to  the  kind 
friends  who  had  so  greatly  contributed  to  his  comfort, 
and  furthered  his  objects  in  visiting  Constantinople. 
With  Mrs.  Hamlin — first  seen  as  a  young  girl  in  her 
father's  house  amid  the  green  hills  of  Vermont,  then  a 
Christian  matron,  performing  gently  and  gracefully  the 
varied  duties  of  her  oriental  life — he  was  next  to  meet 
in  the  better  land.  In  the  same  year,  God  called  these, 
his  servants,  from  the  East  and  from  the  West,  to  sit 
down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  His 
kingdom. 

The  month  of  July  he  spent  on  the  Danube.  "  A 
few  pencil  lines,"  as  Gray  somewhere  remarks,  "  are 
worth  a  cart-load  of  recollection  afterward  ;"  so  Dr. 
Olin's  penciled  notes,  written  mostly  on  the  steamer, 
may  be  considered  of  no  inferior  value,  especially  as 
recent  events  have  invested  that  country  with  peculiar 
interest. 

Journal. 

July  6th,  1840.  This  has  been  a  day  of  excessive  heat. 
The  small  islands  yesterday  and  to-day  are  some  of  them  beau- 
tiful, being  covered  with  an  impervious  low  copse,  perfectly 
green.  In  the  evening  we  passed  a  large  village  on  the  left, 
with  a  respectable  mosque.  Behind  is  a  vast  plain,  bound* 
ed  by  the  lofty  Balkan — a  fine  view.  To  the  right  of  the  vil- 
lage is  a  three-arched  stone  bridge. 

7th.  We  reached  Widdin,  on  the  left  bank,  early  in  the 
morning,  and  stopped  to  take  in  merchandise.  A  large 
mosque,  three  stories  high,  is  close  to  the  shore,  whence  a 


WIDDIN CALOFAT.  11 

company,  singing,  and  with  a  green  flag,  entered  the  town. 
I  followed  them  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  city,  where  a  crowd 
was  gathered  to  witness  the  departure  of  pilgrims  for  Mecca. 
The  bazars  which  I  traversed  are  ample,  but  meanly  built 
of  wood,  and  badly  supplied.  I  saw  massive  salt  in  cubes 
two  feet  square,  iron  roughly  hammered,  long  piles  of  bales 
of  cotton,  a  cargo  of  which  we  take  for  Vienna — it  is  in  bales 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  ;  bags  of  coarse  black  and 
gray  striped  wool.  It  was  brought,  two  bales  on  a  horse, 
from  Macedonia  ;  it  is  of  a  bad  quality,  short  staples,  like  the 
shearings  of  broad-cloth.  Many  houses  are  of  wattled  branch- 
es of  trees,  plastered  with  mud  mixed  with  short  straw. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  lumber  in  the  town.  I  saw  seven- 
teen of  the  twenty-three  minarets  said  to  be  visible.  The 
country  is  gently  undulating,  and  just  above  are  swells  on 
the  right  bank.  The  population  is  composed  of  Turks,  Jews, 
Greeks,  Armenians,  and  Bulgarians.  The  Bulgarians  have 
light  hair  and  blue  eyes  ;  their  dress  is  a  frock  and  trowsers, 
red  sash,  and  skull-cap.  Widdin  is  an  extensive  fortress,  with 
fosse  and  abatis  ;  the  walls  are  of  stone — the  embrasures 
upon  them  of  earth,  kept  in  place  by  wicker-work.  A  little 
above,  and  nearly  opposite,  is  the  large  village  of  Calofat,  to 
which  the  number  of  flocks  in  its  vicinity,  and  the  white 
tents  of  the  shepherds  give  a  pleasing  effect.  At  If  P.M., 
the  mercury  under  the  awning  on  deck  was  99°. 

July  8th.  At  seven  this  morning  we  are  opposite  a  village 
on  the  right,  built  of  wicker-work — small  round  huts,  &c. 
This  bank  of  the  Danube,  so  long  a  dead  flat,  is  at  first  an 
undulating  plain,  and,  two  miles  from  the  shore,  is  a  ridge  of 
the  Oriental  Carpathian  Mountains,  beautifully  wooded  up 
the  side,  and  the  top  spotted  with  yellow  fields  of  wheat. 
The  left  bank  is  high,  and  conical  hills  form  the  background. 
The  Danube  bends  to  the  north.  The  Wallachian  side  is 
beautiful.  Gently  swelling  hills  and  vales,  cultivated  fields 
plentifully  intermingled  with  rich  wood,  and  now  and  then 


12  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

a  white  cottage.  It  is  a  new  sight.  The  Wallachian  Laz- 
aretto is  on  the  bank,  and  consists  of  several  respectable  white 
houses.  91  A.M.,  at  Trajan's  Bridge.  A  pile  of  masonry 
stands  on  both  shores,  close  to  the  water.  It  is  from  ten  to 
fifteen  feet  high,  and  composed  of  rough  stones  in  cement. 
The  bridge  seems  to  have  been  narrow  in  proportion  to  its 
length,  which  was  about  one  mile.  Just  above,  on  the  right, 
is  a  fragment  of  a  wall,  fifteen  feet  high,  said  to  have  been  a 
part  of  the  Roman  camp.  Other  ruins,  less  visible,  are  scat- 
tered around  in  the  vegetation.  The  whole  region  is  beau- 
tiful. 

The  boat  stopped  at  11£  A.M.  Higher  by  one  or  two 
miles  is  Scala  Gladova,  where  the  Austrian  flag  flies,  and 
where  the  boat  of  the  other  side  of  the  river  stops.  Here  is 
a  wattled  village,  the  chimneys  the  same,  the  roof  thatched. 
Just  opposite,  on  the  left,  is  a  Turkish  fort,  with  several  good 
buildings  within,  and  a  mosque.  It  is  called  Feth  Islam,  or 
Gladova.  A  mile  higher  is  the  Servian  village  of  Glado- 
nitza,  where  we  anchored  at  11|  A.M.,  too  late  to  get  to  Or- 
sova  to-night.  We  stay  on  board  till  to-morrow  morning  in 
an  ill  humor.  This  is  a  vile  village  of  twigs,  thatch,  and 
mud.  The  opposite  bank  is  a  mountain  of  slate,  which  dips 
from  the  Danube  at  a  great  angle.  The  passage  from  here 
to  Orsova  is  made  in  boats  towed  by  oxen,  or  carriages,  which 
are  immense  baskets,  something  like  a  coach  in  form,  and 
suspended  on  wheels.  The  soldiers  who  guard  the  banks  of 
the  Danube  in  Moldavia,  Wallachia,  and  Servia  belong  to 
the  principalities,  and  are  not  Russians.  The  dress  of  the 
Servian  and  Bulgarian  female  peasants  is  a  white  handker- 
chief tied  upon  the  head,  a  long  gown  of  white  cotton,  a  col- 
ored petticoat,  open  at  the  sides,  reaching  half  way  from  the 
knees  to  the  ankles,  and  confined  at  the  top  by  a  girdle 
They  come  for  water  with  two  buckets,  pendent  from  the 
ends  of  a  lever,  which  they  balance  on  the  shoulder,  and  they 
wade  in  the  river  to  fill  these  vessels.  The  men,  who  are  as 


THE     LAZARETTO     AT     ORSOVA.  13 

straight  as  Indians,  have  long  light  hair.  There  are  large 
warehouses  of  wicker-work  for  salt — a  government  monopoly, 
and  the  unloading  is  done  from  the  high  poops  of  ships. 

July  9th,  1840.  We  left  Gladonitza  early  this  morning  for 
the  Lazaretto  at  Orsova,  distant  sixteen  miles.  Our  convey- 
ance was  a  large,  flat-bottomed  boat,  with  a  shingled  roof, 
painted  green  inside  and  out,  and  towed  by  four  white  oxen. 
A  huge  boat,  laden  with  the  merchandise,  had  twenty  oxen. 
Gladonitza  is  a  wicker-work  town.  The  granaries  are  im- 
mense baskets  on  posts.  At  the  distance  of  a  mile  and  a 
half,  the  mountains  of  mica  slate  come  to  the  river  with  a 
steep  slope.  They  form  many  swells,  varying  from  five 
hundred  to  eight  hundred  feet,  and  are  covered  with  a  low 
growth  of  wood.  The  scenery  is  very  beautiful.  About  half 
way  between  Gladonitza  and  Orsova  is  "  The  Iron  Gate," 
where  the  rock  runs  quite  across  the  bed  of  the  river,  leaving 
now  sixteen  inches  of  water ;  but,  when  dry,  the  rock  ap- 
pears a  great  part  of  the  way.  It  is  more  than  two  thousand 
feet  long.  The  current  here  is  very  swift,  and  the  rock  op- 
poses an  effectual  barrier  to  the  passage  of  steam-boats.  There 
are  on  the  left  the  remains  of  an  ancient  canal,  which  is  not 
now  allowed  to  be  kept  open.  Two  miles  below  Orsova  is 
Old  Orsova,  a  ruinous  Turkish  fort,  built  of  brick.  On  the 
left  is  Fort  Elizabeth,  built  by  dueen  Elizabeth  of  Hungary, 
and  finished  by  Joseph  II.  of  Austria.  A  subterraneous  pas- 
sage, a  mile  in  length,  leads  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  mount- 
ain. Here  is  the  last  mosque  ;  and,  on  reaching  land  in  Or- 
sova, the  first  sound  was  a  fine  church  bell.  I  thank  God, 
who  has  brought  me  to  a  Christian  land.  A  soldier,  with  a 
gun  and  bayonet,  walked  by  our  boat ;  a  woman  drove  the 
oxen.  The  men  wear  long  hair. 

Quarantine  at  12.  The  Lazaretto  is  in  a  considerable 
vale,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  well- wooded  mountains.  Our 
apartments  are  small ;  our  court  sixty -nine  feet  by  forty-five, 
where  a  mixed  company  are  gathered  together.  Our  Wai- 


14  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

lachian  guardian  knows  no  language  but  Wallachian.  The 
garden  in  the  interior  is  planted  with  shrubs,  and  the  peaches 
on  the  trees  are  as  large  as  partridge  eggs.  Grain  is  white 
for  the  harvest. 

July  19th.  We  left  the  Lazaretto  at  3  P.M.,  and  reached 
Orsova  at  5,  after  much  ceremony  at  the  custom-house  and 
passport  office.  Our  books,  of  which  as  well  as  all  other 
articles  we  had  to  make  report  on  entering  the  Lazaretto, 
are  taken  to-day,  plumbed,  that  is,  put  under  seal ;  and  they 
will  come  into  our  hands  again  at  Semlin  or  Vienna,  if  not 
found  to  contain  dangerous  opinions.  The  countryman's  cos- 
tume is  loose  trowsers  often  bordered,  petticoat,  and  figured 
jacket,  a  red  girdle,  and  a  hat  with  a  semi-sphere  crown  and 
broad  brim,  turned  up  all  round.  The  female  costume  is  a 
gay  head-dress  of  a  red  kerchief  tied  on  the  head  with  one 
end  flowing,  a  two-folded  apron  of  gay  colors  and  fringed  at 
the  bottom,  with  boots.  On  Sunday  evening,  a  number  of 
good-looking  peasants  were  dancing  to  the  music  of  the  flute 
and  violin.  Orsova  is  a  neat  little  town  of  one  thousand  in- 
habitants, with  two  churches,  and  houses  whitewashed  and 
covered  with  long  shingles.  I  saw  many  fine  Vienna-made 
carriages  for  Odessa  and  other  Oriental  places,  proofs  of  grow- 
ing wealth  and  civilization,  and  of  improved  roads.  I  here 
saw  hogs,  the  first  I  had  seen,  except  two  or  three,  since  I 
left  Syria.  The  German  beds  here,  as  in  Hanover,  are  short, 
narrow,  and  foul ;  the  wash-basins  are  most  inconveniently 
small.  We  saw  three  women  to  one  man  in  the  field  ;  some 
of  them  had  distaffs,  and  others  had  a  child,  slung  in  a  bas- 
ket or  on  their  backs.  The  men  are  employed  in  military 
service  ;  and  the  women  are  made  hags,  prematurely  old  and 
ugly,  here,  as  in  other  countries  of  Europe,  by  this  rude  ex- 
posure to  the  sun,  and  by  their  hard  labor  ;  a  great  contrast 
are  they  to  the  veiled  and  secluded  women  of  the  East. 

We  are  now  amid  the  celebrated  passes  of  the  Danube, 
through  the  Carpathian  range,  a  wild  and  sublime  region. 


PASSES     OP     THE     DANUBE.  15 

The  river,  which  is  two  or  three  hundred  feet  wide,  is  rapid 
and  deep,  and  full  of  eddies  and  rocks.  Narrow  passes  suc- 
ceed each  other  at  short  intervals.  The  mountain  is  a  thou- 
sand feet  high,  with  nearly  perpendicular  sides,  and  top  cov- 
ered with  brushwood.  Our  road  along  the  Hungarian  bank 
is  blasted  in  the  mountain,  and  has  an  overhanging  gallery. 
The  ancient  Roman  road,  opposite,  on  the  Servian  bank  of 
the  Danube,  was  cut  in  and  under  the  rock,  and  was  said  to 
be  roofed.  It  was  fifty  miles  long,  and  in  some  places  it  was 
a  mere  platform  for  many  miles,  overhanging  the  river,  and 
resting  upon  beams  mortised  into  the  face  of  the  perpendicu- 
lar cliff. 

Men  wear  conical  sheep-skin  caps,  with  long  black  and 
white  wool.  Sandals  are  made  by  perforating  a  bit  of  skin, 
of  proper  size,  with  holes  along  the  border,  and  drawing  them 
on  the  foot  with  a  thong.  The  women  in  the  field  are  naked 
to  the  hips.  We  passed  three  towers — two  on  shore,  very 
ancient,  and  one  on  a  rock  in  the  water,  which  is  reached  by 
a  bridge,  and  which  is  still  used. 

July  2lst.  A  small  Austrian  fort  on  the  right,  connecting 
with  a  small  island  in  the  river.  A  mile  further  is  the  Ser- 
vian castle  Romor,  which  is  semi-ruinous,  with  four  towers 
on  a  rocky  point.  There  are  said  to  be  Roman  ruins  near. 
The  mountains  cease — even  the  hills,  on  the  Hungarian  side, 
are  lost  in  an  immense  level,  a  little  above  the  water,  with 
a  low  sand  ridge  in  the  background.  The  Danube  is  from 
one  to  two  miles  wide,  muddy  and  swift,  with  low  brush- 
covered  islands,  much  as  it  is  three  hundred  miles  below. 

31  P.M.  Semendria  on  the  left — a  small  Servian  town, 
half  concealed  amid  foliage,  and  appearing  well  from  the 
boat.  Close  to  the  water  is  a  triangular  fort  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  built  by  a  Servian  prince.  Its  inner  wall  is  battle- 
mented,  and  strengthened  by  twenty-four  battlemented  tow- 
ers. A  long  window  is  seen  in  the  side  of  the  towers  looking 
within.  Two  or  three  lower  towers  stand  near  the  angles 


16  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

on  the  river.  There  is  an  outer  wall  like  the  first,  but  lower, 
and  without  towers.  Servia  is  beautifully  variegated,  and 
much  wooded.  Hungary  is  a  vast  plain. 

6  P.M.  Just  opposite  there  is  a  large  Servian  village  of 
mud  and  thatch,  very  mean,  but  full  of  small  trees.  The 
country  is  hilly  and  brushy.  On  the  Hungarian  side,  the  land 
barely  rises  out  of  the  water,  and  is  mostly  in  grass.  There 
are  several  villages  in  the  distance.  The  guard-houses,  which 
occur  every  mile  and  a  half,  are  raised  on  posts  four  or  five 
feet  high.  Great  heat. 

July  22d,  1840.  Arrived  at  Semlin  after  dark  last  night. 
For  a  considerable  distance  below,  the  Danube  is  very  broad, 
and  imbosoms  many  islands  covered  by  willows  and  coarse 
grass,  and  rising  just  above  the  water.  We  sailed  close  to  the 
fortress  of  Belgrade.  This  town  is  finely  situated  on  a  high 
point,  at  the  junction  of  the  Save  and  Danube.  Belgrade, 
though  Servian,  is  held  by  Turkish  troops — a  troublesome 
compliment  to  the  empty  claims  of  the  sultan,  useless  as 
well  in  war  as  in  peace.  The  immense  plain  of  Hungary 
shows  scattering  villages — fertile,  but  badly  tilled. 

At  Semlin  we  leave  the  Banat,  the  girdle  or  military  front- 
ier. This  singular  institution,  which  had  its  origin  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  was  established  in  this  region — wasted  by 
the  Turks,  and  peopled  by  the  refugees  to  defend  it  from 
the  Turks — to  act  as  a  sanatory  cordon,  and  to  prevent  smug- 
gling. It  is  a  check  of  Hungary,  a  nursery  for  soldiers,  and 
its  extent  is  eleven  hundred  miles  long  and  sixteen  broad. 
Every  thing  is  military.  Duty  from  sixteen  to  sixty  for  land, 
and  the  soldiers  are  employed  two  thirds  of  the  time.  From 
five  to  eight  thousand  are  stationed  in  guard-houses,  on  bord- 
ers, heights,  and  rivers.  Villages  are  under  military  regime ; 
so  is  all  domestic  and  farm  industry  —  schools  and  churches 
every  where.  The  soil  is  badly  tilled,  mostly  by  women,  who 
are  very  vulgar.  The  soldiers  wear  a  homespun  uniform, 
sandals,  and  cap  ;  and  in  summer,  white  trowsers  and  shirt. 


THE    BAN  AT SEMLIN PE  TE  R  W  AR  D  E  IN.        17 

They  are  good  soldiers,  and  devoted  to  Austria,  not  to  Hun- 
gary. From  eighty  to  a  hundred  thousand  may  be  mustered, 
who  must  go  any  where  in  time  of  war.  The  cause  is  now 
ceased  for  this  peculiar  institution,  which  devotes  this  region 
to  comparative  barbarism.  It  were  much  better  to  have  reg- 
ular troops.  The  military  frontier  goes  up  the  Danube,  above 
Peterwardein  and  Neusatz,  from  which  to  the  Theiss  ;  the 
region  maintains  a  river  fleet  of  boats. 

Semlin  has  wide,  regular  streets ;  decent,  small,  white 
houses,  with  many  gardens  and  trees.  Around  is  a  fosse  and 
stockade,  made  of  logs  from  ten  to  twelve  inches  in  diameter, 
and  from  ten  to  twelve  feet  high,  set  close  together  in  the 
earth.  I  saw  six  churches  and  several  warehouses.  This  is 
a  place  of  great  deposit  from  the  Save,  Theiss,  Danube,  &c., 
for  lumber,  hides,  wool  (long  and  coarse),  and  grain.  I  saw 
many  stores  for  tanned  sheep-skins,  with  wool  for  winter 
clothes,  and  to  line  coats,  and  for  sandals.  The  streets  are 
clean.  I  met  many  corpulent  women.  There  is  some  silk 
business  ;  the  cocoon  winders  get  twenty  kreutzers  and  food 
per  day^;  others  work  from  four  in  the  morning  to  eight  in 
the  evening. 

The  Castle  of  Hunniades  is  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the 
Danube.  It  is  a  quadrangle,  faced  in  and  out  with  brick ; 
the  rest  rough  stones  in  mortar.  There  are  four  round  tow- 
ers, one  at  each  corner.  It  commands  a  boundless  view ; 
much  land  covered  by  water  on  the  Hungarian  side  ;  a  dead 
level,  with  extensive  forests  of  oak  and  ash.  A  group  of 
gipsies  were  seated  near  the  old  tower. 

July  23d.  Left  Semlin  at  midnight.  We  had  a  disagree- 
able night.  More  passengers  and  great  noise.  The  Hun- 
garian young  men  are  reckless  and  boisterous  ;  play  and  drink 
hard.  One  is  a  noble,  who  played  all  day,  and  at  Semlin 
drank  all  night  nearly ;  slept  in  his  boots ;  and  yesterday 
morning  sent  for  a  band  of  music,  and  he  and  a  few  more 
caroused  all  day.  His  bill  was  five  hundred  florins.  At 


18  LIFE      AND     LETTERS. 

night  he  brought  the  band  on  board  ;  but  the  captain,  after 
a  few  minutes,  forbade  their  playing. 

Peterwardein,  on  the  left  bank,  is  approached  by  a  very 
winding  course  of  the  river,  which  imbosoms  small  islands. 
It  is  a  strong  fortress,  on  a  high  point,  in  a  bend  of  the  Dan- 
ube, which  flows  close  under  its  guns.  A  range  of  bulwarks 
runs  just  above  the  river,  and  incloses  a  large  area  occu- 
pied by  barracks,  &c.  ;  and  a  high  elevation  is  surmounted 
by  the  citadel  overlooking  the  river  and  city.  The  ramparts 
rise  one  above  another  in  great  beauty.  They  are  topped 
with  green  turf.  It  is  calculated  for  ten  thousand  men,  and 
may  yet  be  a  bulwark  against  Russia,  though  no  longer  of 
use  against  Turkey.  It  is  named  from  Peter  the  Hermit, 
who  once  assembled  the  crusaders  here.  Peterwardein  is 
joined  by  a  bridge  of  anchored  boats  to  Neusatz,  on  the  right 
bank. 

41  P.M.  Illok — a  station  of  the  boat,  built  of  sections  of 
trees  five  inches  in  diameter.  On  the  hill  is  a  large  church 
and  convent,  with  battlemented  walls.  The  bluff  is  finely 
wooded  to  the  top,  and  gives  a  very  charming  air  to  this  site. 

5|.  A  large  village  on  the  left  bank,  and  the  ruin  of  a  cas- 
tle on  the  high  bluff.  The  most  common  tree  on  the  Danube 
throughout  its  course  is  the  willow ;  in  the  lowest  ground, 
mere  brushwood  ;  in  the  higher,  that  is,  above  high  water,  it 
is  often  from  one  to  two  feet  in  diameter,  low  and  spreading. 
Scattered  over  the  vast  pastures,  it  resembles  the  apple-trees 
of  a  New  England  orchard.  The  Hungarian  and  Russian  la- 
dies, of  whom  we  have  a  number  on  board,  knit  perpetually. 

The  heat  to-day  has  been  oppressive,  the  mercury  88°  at 
6  P.M.  No  breeze,  and  the  boat  so  slow  as  only  to  raise 
enough  to  bring  the  smoke  and  heat  under  the  awning. 

July  21th,  Gi  A.M.  The  boat  is  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  sea 
of  tall  grass  and  low  willows,  with  occasional  islands  of  wood, 
through  which  the  Danube  winds  in  all  directions.  It  im- 
bosoms many  islands,  all  thickly  clad  with  brushwood.  No 


HUNGARIANS A     CITY    OP     COTTAGES.          19 

hill  or  habitation  in  sight.  We  passed  the  Drave,  the  limit 
of  Sclavonia,  early  this  morning. 

9  A.M.  In  the  midst  of  a  village  of  mills  turned  by  the 
strong  current.  The  wheel,  which  is  of  great  diameter  and 
length,  plays  between  two  boats,  anchored  in  the  strong  cur- 
rent by  large  chains.  One  boat  is  a  covered  house  for  the 
mill ;  but  the  millers'  families  do  not  live  in  it.  These  mills 
work  with  much  force,  and  might  be  adopted  in  the  Ameri- 
can rivers.  Immense  savannahs  of  grass  and  brushwood. 

9|-.  Anatin — a  re-enforcement  of  passengers.  The  better 
sort  of  Hungarians  are  a  good-looking  people — have  strong 
features,  long,  ample  noses,  good  foreheads,  &c.  They  wear 
bushy  hair  before,  but  cut  it  close  behind,  and  cultivate  care- 
fully enormous  mustaches.  They  come  on  board  with  huge 
German  pipes  in  their  hands,  and  a  showy  tobacco-pouch, 
worked  with  beads  or  other  ornaments,  on  the  arm,  like  a 
lady's  reticule.  The  ladies  dress  very  finely  on  board,  wear 
much  jewelry,  and  have  a  good  deal  the  air  of  fashion,  though 
all  is  of  rather  ordinary  material.  One  always  observes  with 
pain  the  abasement  of  the  common  people,  who  take  off  their 
hats  with  an  air  of  profound  humility,  which  seems  to  say, 
"  Forgive  me  for  breathing  the  same  air  with  you." 

5^  P.M.  Stopped  at  Mohacs,  which  covers  a  large  area  of 
low,  flat  ground,  close  to  the  Danube.  With  the  exception 
of  some  government  establishments,  and  a  few  shops  and 
dwellings,  it  is  a  city  of  cottages,  built  mostly  in  a  uniform 
style — small,  low  mud  walls,  whitewashed  gable  to  the  street, 
windows  of  four  small  panes,  thatched  with  long  reeds  from 
the  marshes,  and  surrounded  with  small  inclosures  of  wick- 
er-fence, better  made  and  more  neatly  kept  than  usual.  A 
good  many  willows  are  scattered  through  the  place.  Trench- 
es, containing  green  water,  run  on  one  or  both  sides  of  the  wide 
streets.  Multitudes  of  dirty  and  unhealthy  looking,  but  not 
ragged,  children  were  running  about  the  town.  There  are  a 
few  shops,  and  from  fifteen  to  twenty  good  churches,  a  con- 


20  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

vent,  and  fine  gardens.  A  vast  region  around  the  opposite 
side  of  the  Danube  is  flat,  and  covered  with  brushwood. 
Seven  girls  wheeled  the  coal  into  our  boat — no  man  there. 
Their  costume  was  a  blue  skirt  or  apron,  and  blue  handker- 
chief tied  simply  over  the  head,  and  hanging  down  with 
many  beads  behind.  Some  have  sheep-skin  jackets,  and  some, 
in  full  dress,  had  tufts  of  hair  carried  round  the  face  and 
hanging  down  behind,  all  shining  with  grease.  The  men, 
in  broad-brimmed,  semi-sphere  crowned  hats  and  loose  trow- 
sers,  have  long,  coarse,  tangled  hair.  Sheep-skin  caps  are  used 
by  many.  Mohacs  is  famed  for  two  great  battles  between 
Turks  and  Christians  ;  the  first  adverse,  the  second  favora- 
ble to  the  latter.  We  stayed  here  till  li  A.M.,  received  a 
crowd  of  passengers,  and  had  a  more  uncomfortable  night. 
Every  thing  grows  daily  worse  on  this  line.  We  sleep  on 
slides,  on  plank  sixteen  inches  wide,  which  are  drawn  out 
parallel,  and  six  inches  apart,  and  a  cushion  is  laid  upon  this. 
Hitherto  I  have  had  two ;  this  night  I  had  to  balance  my- 
self on  one — full  business  for  a  man  wide  awake. 

Hungary,  though  semi-barbarous,  was  for  centuries  the  bul- 
wark of  Christianity  and  civilization,  and  probably  saved 
Western  Europe  from  the  fate  of  Asia  Minor.  Often  routed, 
it  always  contended,  and  the  power  of  Turkey  was  stayed 
and  broken  against  this  shield,  till  Europe  grew  stronger, 
and  the  zeal  of  Turkey  and  the  terror  of  her  name  declined. 
Hungary  was  to  Turkey  what  the  aroused  population  of 
Spain  was  to  Napoleon.  The  vale  of  the  Danube  is  the 
largest  and  most  fertile  in  Europe,  fit  to  give  food  to  fifty 
millions  of  people.  It  is  uncultivated  after  sixteen  hundred 
years,  through  the  influence  of  bad  governments,  wars,  &c. 
Under  favorable  circumstances,  Hungary,  Servia,  Wallachia, 
Moldavia,  &c.,  not  to  mention  Asia  Minor,  might  take  the 
emigrants  of  Europe,  to  whom  they  offer  more  natural  ad- 
vantages than  America — good  soil,  cleared  of  forest,  mild 
climate,  proximity,  &c.  The  races  here  are  not  improvable, 


HUNGARY PESTH.  21 

nor  fit  to  be  free.  There  is  a  want  of  people.  Governments 
know  not  how  to  mend  matters.  Impossible  !  Slow  prog- 
ress of  improvement  by  steam-boats — four  new  boats  are  build- 
ing. The  Danube  is  difficult  of  ascent,  through  its  shallow 
water  and  rapid  currents  :  from  twenty  to  forty  horses  are 
seen  towing  the  large  boats.  The  navigation  is  only  fit  for 
steam-boats,  of  which  there  should  be  many  more.  With 
American  enterprise,  there  would  be  fifty  in  two  or  three 
years.  Every  thing  here  is  slow — quarantines — indolence — 
jealousy — want  of  capital,  of  trade,  of  manufactures — all 
impede  the  march  of  improvement.  Yet  with  such  a  region 
on  its  banks,  with  Vienna,  Pesth,  and  other  fine  towns  above, 
and  Constantinople  and  the  East  below,  the  Danube  should 
swarm  with  boats  like  the  Mississippi.  It  is,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  American,  the  most  extensive  line  of  inland 
navigation  in  the  world. 

The  Hungarian  gentlemen  strip  off  their  coats  if  they  find 
it  too  warm  at  dinner.  They  all  raise  the  hat  and  bow,  wish- 
ing you  well  when  you  sneeze.  There  is  much  freedom  in 
their  intercourse  with  their  servants.  This  is  the  case,  too, 
with  the  different  sexes,  though  less  deference  is  shown  to 
females  than  with  us.  The  nobles  do  not  associate  with  the 
richest  merchants.  They  hold  all  lands,  and  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  people.  The  Magyars  are  of  uncertain  ori- 
gin— either  Asiatic  or  Scandinavian.  They  conquered  Hun- 
gary in  the  eighth  century.  Latin  is  spoken  by  the  educated 
classes,  and  it  was  used  in  the  Diet  till  five  years  ago. 

July  26th.  We  arrived  at  Pesth  at  two  P.M.,  and  I  stopped 
at  the  Hotel  of  the  Glueen  of  England,  which  is  well  kept, 
and  close  to  the  bridge.  I  am  very  unwell,  and  have  been  so 
from  Orsova,  but  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful  for  God's 
mercies,  which  have  supported  me.  Pesth  is  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Danube,  and  may  be  two  miles  long.  It  is  compact- 
ly built  of  brick,  plastered  and  whitewashed — walls  thick. 
There  are  many  palaces,  as  in  Vienna,  subdivided  for  a  num- 


22  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


ber  of  families,  which  gives  a  noble  appearance.  Pesth  is  a 
fine-looking  city,  and  very  striking  on  coming  from  the  East, 
where  all  private  buildings  are  mean.  A  noble  range  of 
buildings  fronts  the  Danube,  leaving  room  for  a  well-paved 
street,  a  landing-place,  and  a  space  for  carts,  cofTee-houses, 
hotels,  and  offices.  There  are  several  fine  streets  of  stores 
immediately  in  the  rear  of  this.  The  shops  are  richly  filled 
with  all  sorts  of  merchandise,  vying  in  splendor  with  stores 
in  Vienna  and  Paris.  The  signs,  like  those  in  Vienna,  are 
beautiful  pictures  of  men,  women,  animals,  and  wares,  the 
work  of  the  first  artists.  The  public  buildings,  besides  the 
usual  supply  of  respectable,  but  not  remarkable,  churches, 
are  the  military  hospital,  just  below  the  town,  near  the 
Danube  ;  the  military  school,  in  the  same  neighborhood ;  the 
Stadt-house,  a  venerable-looking  edifice,  with  a  lofty  steeple  ; 
and  some  immense  barracks.  These,  as  in  all  Europe,  cover 
no  small  part  of  the  city  ;  but  here  are  two,  especially  that 
of  Joseph  II.,  of  immense  size,  the  latter  said  to  be  the  larg- 
est in  the  world.  It  has  many  cells  under  ground,  and,  the 
Hungarians  say,  was  built  for  a  prison.  Draying  is  awk- 
wardly done — sometimes  by  three  yoke  of  oxen  or  two  pairs 
of  horses,  in  long  wagons,  which  answer  in  these  wide  streets, 
or  in  single  wagons,  the  pole  lashed  to  the  horse's  neck.  Near 
Pesth  the  Danube  is  very  deep,  and  a  vast  number  of  boats, 
all  clumsy,  show  the  greatness  of  its  trade.  There  are  large 
floating  baths,  besides  several  others  on  shore,  which  are  some 
of  the  largest  and  finest  buildings.  There  are  many  fine  cafes 
arid  hotels.  The  Cassino  contains  an  extensive  reading-roorn, 
and  the  best  restaurant.  One  great  defect  of  this  really  fine 
city  is  the  want  of  trees.  It  has  many  spacious  squares  and 
broad  streets,  all  bare  of  verdure  and  shade.  The  merchants, 
who  are  mostly  Germans,  are  rich.  One  sees,  however,  no 
thronged  streets. 

There  was  a  great  freshet  in  Pesth  in  March,  1838,  caused 
by  the  breaking  up  of  the  ice  in  the  Upper  Danube.    A  large 


GREAT    FRESHET IRON     BRIDGE.  23 

part  of  the  town,  was  flooded  ;  the  water  rose  from  five  to  six 
feet  in  the  churches,  and  in  several  places  the  soil  was  swept 
away  some  feet  in  depth,  traces  of  which  I  saw.  All  the 
mills,  and  upward  of  two  thousand  houses,  were  destroyed, 
and  several  thousands  of  lives  were  lost.  Among  these  were 
many  prisoners  confined  in  subterranean  cells — a  reason  why 
magistrates  made  no  report  of  numbers.  There  is  great  dan 
ger  when  the  ice  in  the  Danube  above  breaks  up  before  it 
does  below.  Soldiers  are  stationed  at  proper  intervals  to 
watch,  and  the  ice  is  broken  by  the  discharge  of  cannon 
against  it.  Immediately  opposite  Pesth,  on  the  left  bank,  is 
Buda,  or  Ofen,  the  ancient  capital.  The  Danube  is  passed 
on  a  bridge  of  forty-five  flat-bottomed  boats,  moored  with 
chain  cables  at  the  bow  and  stern  of  each.  They  are  also 
tied  to  each  other  with  massive  chains.  These  are  the  piers 
of  the  bridge,  which  is  three  hundred  and  eighty-eight  paces 
long.  It  is  a  toll-bridge,  and  the  only  one,  perhaps,  on  which 
the  poor  alone  pay,  and  every  well-dressed  man  goes  free. 
The  nobles  of  Hungary  are  exempt  from  taxes — the  poor 
peasants  paying  all ;  and  the  reason  given  for  the  anomaly  I 
have  referred  to  is,  that  toll  might  be  asked  through  mistake 
of  a  nobleman.  The  collectors  draw  the  line  very  low — it 
is  only  of  coarsely-clad  poor  persons  that  money  is  exacted. 
A  bill  has  passed  the  Diet  to  build  an  iron  bridge,  where  all 
must  pay.  This  is  a  triumph  of  principle.  The  work  is 
slowly  advancing.  This  iron  bridge,  fourteen  hundred  feet 
long,  is  to  be  six  years  in  building.  A  Scotch  engineer  has 
the  direction  of  it,  and  fifteen  English  laborers  are  employed 
at  thirty  shillings  a  week.  The  Hungarians  can  not  haul 

large  loads,  nor  cut  stone,  nor  work  iron  well.     Mr. 

had  great  difficulty  to  induce  them  to  come  at  the  ringing 
of  the  bell,  and  to  give  up  smoking  when  at  work,  which 
took  one  fourth  of  their  time.  They  now  do  nearly  double 
the  amount  of  labor  they  performed  at  the  outset.  The  iron 
is  brought  from  England. 


24  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

Two  lofty  hills  rise  on  this  bank  of  the  Danube  almost  from 
the  water's  edge,  with  a  deep  valley  between  them,  which 
approaches  the  river  just  opposite  to  the  end  of  the  bridge. 
The  south  hill,  or  that  below  the  bridge,  is  five  hundred  feet 
high.  It  is  surmounted  by  an  observatory,  and  commands  a 
grand  view  of  Pesth,  Buda,  the  Danube  above  and  below, 
and  the  vast  plains  of  Hungary.  The  north  hill  is  less  ele- 
vated. It  is  crowned  with  the  large  palace  of  the  vice-king 
and  other  public  edifices,  the  whole  inclosed  in  strong  walls, 
and  forming  a  citadel  that  commands  both  cities. 

Buda  is  built  in  the  valley  between  these  two  hills,  all 
around  the  second,  and  along  the  river  for  three  miles  or 
more — a  part  of  the  way  consisting  of  a  single  street,  so  close 
do  the  hills  press  upon  the  water,  and  again  spreading  out 
into  a  considerable  breadth.  With  the  exception  of  the  pub- 
lic buildings,  it  is  much  inferior  to  Pesth,  and  has  but  little 
trade.  One  fine  street  runs  along  the  summit  through  the 
citadel,  which  contains  private  dwellings  as  well  as  public 
edifices. 

The  adjacent  country  is  uneven  and  picturesque,  though 
not  populous.  It  is  covered  with  vineyards.  Buda  or  Ofen 
is  said  to  have  thirty  thousand  inhabitants,  Pesth  eighty  thou- 
sand. One  steamer  goes  down  the  Danube  weekly,  and  two 
to  Vienna.  There  is  a  daily  line  of  coaches  to  Vienna,  which 
take  only  three  passengers.  A  thriving  village  in  America 
would  have  more  intercourse  with  its  market-town.  Here  is 
a  great  capital,  and  mart  of  a  kingdom  of  twelve  millions  of 
inhabitants — the  most  fertile  country  in  Europe — for  which 
these  meagre  means  suffice.  More  steamers  are  to  be  built. 
European  steamers  are  never  crowded  like  those  in  America, 
two  hundred  passengers  being  the  most  I  have  ever  seen,  ex- 
cept in  a  single  instance.  These  are  divided  into  two  or 
three  classes,  paying  different  fares,  and  not  allowed  to  en- 
croach on  the  space  allowed  to  each  other.  The  main  cabin 
and  quarter-deck  have  thus  rather  a  select  company.  The 


THE     HUNGARIAN     DIET.  85 

same  arrangement  prevails  at  table,  where  there  is  never  a 
rush  for  places,  and  seldom  a  noise. 

July  28th.  I  saw  Mr.W .  I  learned  that  Hungary  and 

Transylvania  have  no  connection.  The  Archbishop  of  Tran- 
sylvania sits  in  the  Hungarian  Diet — for  no  reason.  Hun- 
gary is  divided  into  fifty-four  comitatus,  formed  of  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Magyar  noblesse — some  of  whom  are  now 
poor — and  of  those  who  hold  lands  of  the  crown.  Large 
towns  have  no  vote.  Pesth  has  two  in  the  comitatus  of  ten 
thousand  votes.  The  comitatus  has  local  powers,  controlling 
roads,  bridges,  schools,  religion,  election  of  judges  (for  three 
years),  of  delegates  to  the  Diet,  &c.  It  can  negotiate  in  some 
cases  with  foreign  powers.  It  instructs  members  of  the  Diet, 
and  recalls  them  at  pleasure.  The  terms  of  citizenship  differ 
a  little — the  clergy  of  the  various  churches,  Catholic,  Luther- 
an, and  Calvinist,  having  preference  in  different  comitatus. 

The  Diet  has  six  hundred  members,  all  paid  and  lodged. 
It  ought  to  sit  at  least  once  in  three  years,  though  not  always 
called  by  the  king  (emperor),  who  dissolves  it  at  pleasure. 
It  votes  by  comitatus,  each  of  which  must  agree  upon  its 
vote  in  Diet.  The  Diet  grants  soldiers  and  taxes,  and  has 
extensive  legislative  powers.  It  chooses  the  Palatine — four 
candidates  —  two  Catholic,  one  Lutheran,  and  one  Calvinist 
being  nominated  by  the  crown,  and  other  high  officers.  Mem- 
bers of  the  oomitatus  pay  no  taxes  directly,  no  tolls  at  bridges, 
ferries,  roads,  &o.  Rent  is  paid  in  so  many  days'  work.  The 
Catholic  Church  has  much  land — the  Lutheran,  Calvinist, 
and  Greek  are  supported  by  the  public.  Formerly  a  major- 
ity of  the  noblesse  were  Protestant,  but,  with  much  gallantry, 
they  changed  their  faith  for  that  of  their  queen,  Maria  The- 
resa. Many  are  still  Protestant,  who  hold  equal  rights  and 
many  offices.  Transylvania,  where  Protestant  influence  pre- 
dominates, is  a  prosperous  region,  and  has  good  schools  and 
colleges.  The  people  are  of  a  Saxon  stock.  Joseph  H-  tried 
to  introduce  German  in  all  courts,  &c.,  but  his  successor  gave 
II.  B 


26  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

up  the  attempt.  Now  all  is  in  Hungarian,  which  has  much 
improved  the  literature.  Signs  are  in  Hungarian,  German, 
and  often  French.  The  Diet  last  year  refused  the  grant  of 
soldiers  till  they  got  a  promise  of  amnesty  to  certain  impris- 
oned liberals.  Lands  in  Hungary  yield  six  per  cent.,  or  are 
sold  at  eighteen  years  purchase.  An  estate  commonly  has 
a  part  let  irreclaimably  for  one  tenth  of  the  produce  and  a 
number  of  days'  labor.  The  rest  is  free,  and  is  let  for  two 
thirds  of  the  product.  The  proprietor  has  a  farm  to  employ 
the  labor.  Land  may  now  be  bound  for  debt,  which  improves 
its  value,  and  it  will  rise.  The  Banat  is  better  tilled  than 
Hungary. 

July  30th.  Left  Pesth  in  the  steamer  Galatea  at  6  A.M. 
A  cool  morning,  and  fine,  clean  boat,  with  two  hundred  passen- 
gers. Two  miles  above  Pesth  is  an  island  laid  out  in  lawn 
and  garden,  and  well  kept  by  the  Countess  Palatine.  Indian 
corn  is  the  common  crop.  Wheat  is  in  the  harvest.  Villages 
are  frequent  and  populous,  and  the  banks  variegated  and 
picturesque.  At  11  o'clock  we  passed  the  ruined  Castle  of 
"Wissegrad,  the  palace  of  the  ancient  kings  of  Hungary,  situ- 
ated on  a  lofty  rock,  with  an  extensive  wall  and  several  tow- 
ers— one  near  the  water.  Hills,  or,  rather,  low  mountains, 
their  summits  covered  with  brushwood,  press  to  the  water's 
edge  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  About  two  o'clock  we  passed 
Gran,  a  small  town  of  from  ten  to  twelve  thousand  inhabit- 
ants, and  the  ecclesiastical  metropolis  of  Hungary.  A  cathe- 
dral, on  a  lofty  rock,  close  to  the  Danube,  begun  in  1826,  is 
still  incomplete.  It  is  within  an  old  citadel,  which  is  also 
to  contain  an  Episcopal  palace,  a  convent,  and  other  buildings 
on  a  scale  of  great  splendor.  It  was  begun  by  the  archbishop, 
and  an  annual  appropriation  is  made  by  the  Diet.  It  will  be 
the  finest  church  in  Hungary.  The  hill  is  covered  with  vines. 
The  Danube  above  Pesth  is  less  turbid  than  it  is  two  or  three 
hundred  miles  below,  though  its  volume  and  rapidity  are  not 
perceptibly  less  than  below  its  junction  with  the  Save.Drave, 


NAVIGATION  OF  THE  DANUBE.        27 

and  Theiss.  At  6  P.M.  we  are  again  in  the  midst  of  an 
immense  plain,  pretty  well  tilled.  An  Austrian  major  (to 
guard  their  principles)  does  not  allow  officers  to  travel  in  En- 
gland, France,  or  America.  They  go  to  Russia.  Others  en- 
courage their  officers  to  go  to  Algiers  to  learn  war ;  but  Al- 
giers refuses  to  receive  them.  They  may  go  to  Circassia. 

At  71  P.M.  we  pass  Comorn,  at  the  junction  of  the  Waag 
from  Gallicia  with  the  Danube.  It  is  the  Gibraltar  of  the 
Danube,  and  the  strongest  fort  in  Austria.  The  environs  are 
flat,  and  some  outworks  are  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Dan- 
ube. Francis  I.  retired  here  when  Napoleon  took  Vienna. 
There  is  a  considerable  town,  and  a  bridge  over  the  Danube 
on  piers  to  an  island,  and  on  boats  thence  to  the  left  bank. 
The  fort  was  never  taken.  Here  are  four  hundred  con- 
victs. 

July  3lst,  6  A.M.  The  Danube  is  more  than  a  mile  wide, 
full  of  islands  and  sand-banks,  which,  with  the  shores,  are 
only  just  above  water.  The  navigation  is  difficult,  the  wa- 
ter not  being  more  than  four  feet  deep,  and  the  channel  very 
crooked.  One  dragging  machine  of  twelve  horse  power  is 
employed  near  Presburg  —  twelve  are  wanted.  There  are 
boundless  flat  lands  on  every  side.  In  low  water,  this  is  a 
portage,  and  passengers  are  conveyed  in  tow-boats  to  a  steam- 
er above.  121  P.M.  A  copious  rain  is  falling,  and  some  snow. 
Both  banks  of  the  river  are  covered  with  forests  of  small  trees. 
The  boat  advances  two  miles  the  hour.  We  stopped  at  dark 
a  mile  below  Presburg,  being  unable  to  stem  the  current. 
The  Danube  has  risen  very  high,  and  is  a  perfect  torrent,  and 
very  turbid. 

August  1st.  We  came  to  Presburg  this  morning.  It  is  a 
handsome  town,  close  to  the  Danube,  over  which  a  bridge 
of  twenty-seven  boats  extends.  The  palace  is  on  a  very  com- 
manding hill.  We  left  Presburg  before  8  o'clock  A.M.,  in  a 
carriage  for  Vienna. 


28  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

On  his  arrival  at  Vienna,  Dr.  Olin  was  at  once  pros- 
trated by  the  fever  which  he  had  taken  in  the  fens  of 
the  Danube,  and  which  now  attacked  him  in  the  form 
of  congestion  of  the  brain.  Days  of  partial  derange- 
ment, and  several  weeks  of  dangerous  illness,  ensued ; 
but  he  was  under  the  care  of  a  skillful  physician,  and 
friends  with  Christian  sympathy  and  unwearied  kind- 
ness ministered  to  the  lonely  sufferer,  till,  by  the  good 
providence  of  Grod,  he  passed  the  crisis  of  his  disease 
safely,  and  was  enabled,  though  still  feeble,  to  leave  Vi- 
enna on  the  first  of  September,  in  an  Austrian  diligence 
for  Munich.  He  remained  three  days  in  this  beautiful 
city,  and  then  proceeded,  by  the  way  of  Constance,  Zu- 
rich, and  Basle,  to  Paris.  His  anxiety  to  return  home, 
and  his  extreme  weakness,  led  him  to  forego  a  tour  he 
had  contemplated  amid  the  mountains  and  valleys  of 
Switzerland ;  and,  after  resting  three  days  in  Paris 
and  twelve  in  London,  he  embarked  at  Liverpool  in 
the  steamer  Acadia  for  Boston,  and  made  "  one  of  the 
roughest,  and,  at  that  time,  one  of  the  shortest  voyages 
ever  made  across  the  Atlantic." 


REST     AND     RECOVERY.  29 


CHAPTER  II. 

REST  AND  RECOVERY. 

DR.  OLIN  spent  the  first  winter,  after  his  return  from 
Europe,  at  Columbus,  G-eorgia,  in  the  charming  family 
of  his  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Howard,  where  he  enjoyed 
every  comfort  that  watchful  kindness  and  affection 
could  provide.  In  the  spring  he  went  to  reside  with 
his  brother,  in  Salisbury,  Vermont.  Many  changes 
had  taken  place  in  the  home  circle  during  his  absence 
in  Europe.  His  father  had  sold  his  farm  in  Leicester, 
which  was  not  compact  enough  to  suit  him,  and  had 
purchased  another  in  the  adjoining  town  of  Salisbury. 
The  house  to  which  he  removed  was  burned  down 
shortly  after  their  change  of  residence,  and  in  it  were 
consumed  all  Dr.  Olin's  letters'  to  his  father  and  fami- 
ly, written  before  his  departure  for  Europe.  His  broth- 
er repeated  the  exact  words  of  some  of  these  letters, 
which  informed  his  father  of  his  conversion,  after  a 
lapse  of  nearly  thirty  years  ;  and  on  being  asked  how 
his  memory  could  retain  them  so  long,  he  replied,  "  I 
lived  upon  them ;  I  never  had  expected  to  see  my  broth- 
er religious."  The  old  familiar  faces  were  not  there  to 
greet  the  returning  traveler.  His  married  sisters,  with 
their  families,  had  removed  to  Illinois ;  and  his  eye 
asked  in  vain  for  the  father's  room,  memorable  from 
childhood,  the  great  arm-chair,  and  the  venerated  form 
that  used  to  fill  it.  His  brother's  place  was  a  pretty, 


30  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

cheerful  New  England  home  —  a  new  house,  white, 
with  green  blinds,  not  far  from  the  site  of  the  one  de- 
stroyed by  fire.  At  a  little  distance  rose  the  white  spire 
of  the  church,  built  through  his  instrumentality,  a  new 
and  powerful  interest  in  religious  things  having  been 
awakened  in  the  neighborhood  by  the  prayers  and  la- 
bors of  this  invalid  Christian. 

On  the  3d  of  August,  1841,  Dr.  Olin  writes  to  his 
brother  from  Saratoga  Springs  :  "I  expect  to  set  out 
for  the  White  Sulphur  Springs,  Virginia,  in  two  days. 
I  may  return  to  Vermont  this  fall,  even  if  I  winter  in 
Georgia.  All  is  uncertain  now.  I  am  lately  quite 
feeble,  but  hope  to  be  a  little  stronger  in  a  few  days. 
Upon  the  whole,  I  do  not  think  my  prospects  brighten. 
I  must  be  ready  for  any  result.  So  must  my  friends. 
God  will  do  right.  I  trust  in  Him.  I  may  not  de- 
spond. I  offer  body  and  soul  to  Him  through  Christ." 

He  returned  to  Vermont,  and  spent  the  winter  at 
Salisbury.  A  pleasant  family  circle,  consisting  of  his 
brother,  his  brother's  wife,  his  niece,  and  his  youn- 
gest sister  Clarinda,  who  is  thought  to  resemble  him 
more  in  person  and  character  than  any  of  the  family, 
gave  him  the  needful  relaxation  of  society  ;  while  with 
renovated  health  the  ability  to  use  his  pen  for  four  or 
five  hours  every  day  furnished  occupation  to  his  mind, 
gave  an  object  to  his  life,  and  made  the  winter  pass 
cheerfully. 

On  the  19th  of  December,  he  wrote  from  Salisbury 
to  his  cousin,  Mrs.  Dwinnell,  with  whom  he  had  formed 
a  very  agreeable  acquaintance  at  Saratoga  a  few  months 
before.  "  Early  in  August  I  went  from  Saratoga  to 
New  York,  on  my  way  to  the  White  Sulphur  Springs, 


RELIGIOUS     JOY.  31 


in  Virginia.  I,  however,  found  myself  unable  to  pro- 
ceed, and  being  admonished  by  my  physician  that  the 
attempt  would  be  not  a  little  rash,  I  stopped  three  weeks 
on  Long  Island,  and  then  came,  with  some  difficulty, 
to  this  place.  I,  of  course,  gave  up  my  plan  of  winter- 
ing in  Georgia,  and  concluded  to  try  the  fierce  climate 
of  my  native  state.  For  three  or  four  weeks  I  grew 
worse,  and  pretty  much  concluded  that  I  might  end 
rny  race  in  a  short  time.  With  the  cooler  weather  I 
began  to  improve,  which  I  have  done  steadily,  and  I 
now  am  better  than  at  any  time  within  the  past  year. 
This  is  most  unexpected  to  me,  and  the  occasion  of 
many  thanksgivings.  I  trust  I  have  been  quite  willing 
to  submit  to  the  will  of  God  even  in  dying ;  but  if  I  may 
live — still  more,  if  I  may  live  to  labor  for  His  cause 
and  glory,  it  is  much  to  be  preferred.  And  I  can  truly 
say,  no  part  of  my  life  was  ever  made  so  abundantly 
desirable  by  rich  and  permanent  religious  enjoyments. 
It  is  according  to  the  blessed  economy  of  the  Grospel  of 
Christ,  that  one  so  bereaved  and  beaten  down  in  the 
dust  as  I  am  should  find  indemnity  in  sufficient  grace 
and  hallowed  anticipations.  I  know  you  will  rejoice 
with  me  in  this,  and  thank  Grod  in  my  behalf,  and  it 
is  for  this  purpose,  as  well  as  to  speak  for  the  Savior's 
praise,  that  I  thus  write. 

••  My  dear  brother  is  in  very  feeble  health,  with  no 
prospect  of  recovery,  though,  I  hope,  none  of  speedy 
death.  No  one  is  riper  for  heaven.  He  is  a  mature 
and  lovely  Christian,  in  whom  is  no  guile.  He  has 
sold  his  farm  here,  and  bought  a  house  in  West  Poult- 
ney,  where  I  have  also  bought  a  field  to  try  the  effect 
of  labor.  We  go  there,  if  possible,  in  April." 


32  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

Mr.  Olin  sold  his  farm  because  he  found  that  the 
necessary  attention  to  it,  and  the  anxieties  connected 
with  the  religious  interests  of  the  neighborhood,  were 
too  weighty  for  his  feeble  health.  This  he  did  with  the 
advice  of  Dr.  Olin,  in  whose  judgment  he  placed  such 
implicit  confidence  that  he  always  consulted  him  in 
every  business  transaction.  In  the  spring,  they  removed 
to  West  Poultney,  a  pretty  village  in  the  lap  of  the  hills 
in  the  southern  part  of  Vermont.  It  is  about  half  a 
mile  from  the  New  York  state  line,  so  that,  in  Dr.  Olin's 
daily  drives,  his  road  frequently  skirted  two  states.  The 
house  is  pleasantly  situated,  nearly  opposite  the  Troy 
Conference  Academy.  Dr.  Olin  added  a  wing  contain- 
ing a  large,  cheerful  room,  with  windows  on  three  sides, 
and  a  small  entry,  with  a  door  opening  on  the  grassy 
court-yard.  In  this  room  he  finished  writing  out  his 
Journal  in  the  East  for  the  press,  and  here  he  expected 
to  end  his  days ;  but  God  had  more  work  for  his  serv- 
ant to-  do  on  the  earth. 

Dr.  Olin  did  not  keep  a  journal  of  his  religious  life. 
He  said  he  had  begun  it  several  times,  but  he  was  ar- 
rested by  the  fear  that,  unconsciously,  he  might  be  in- 
fluenced by  the  thought  that  the  eyes  of  others  would 
rest  upon  the  page.  At  another  time  he  said  that  these 
records,  written  in  the  still  hour  of  meditation,  would 
present  the  soul  in  its  most  devotional  attitude,  and 
would  scarcely  give  a  fair  idea  of  its  ordinary  life.  He 
has,  however,  erected  four  great  landmarks  of  his  spir- 
itual progress,  which  he  did  with  the  deepest  solemni- 
ty, and  as  in  God's  immediate  presence.  The  first  com- 
memorates his  entrance  upon  that  life  which  leads  to 
glory,  honor,  and  immortality ;  the  second,  on  his  birth- 


ENTIRE     CONSECRATION.  33 

day,  and  on  beginning  his  journey  through  the  desert, 
records  an  act  of  renewed  self-dedication  to  Him  who, 
amid  the  "dreary  and  unprofitable  Sabbaths  of  heathen 
lands,"  was  keeping  his  soul  in  peace,  and  enabling 
him  to  walk  by  faith.  The  third,  in  all  humility  and 
godly  sincerity,  bears  testimony  to  that  work  of  grace 
in  his  heart,  which  gave  him  "perfect  repose  in  Christ; 
and  the  fourth,  written  as  in  the  near  prospect  of  death, 
declares  his  strong  conviction  that  "the  law  of  affin- 
ities will  have  place,"  and  that  the  appropriate  home 
of  his  spirit  would  be  in  "  that  gathering  in  the  heav- 
ens." 

The  third  record  in  his  journal  is  as  follows : 

Salisbury,  Vt.,  March  13th,  1842. 

I  have  been  much  exercised,  for  many  months  past,  upon 
the  subject  of  a  universal  dedication  of  myself  and  all  I  pos- 
sess to  God.  The  experience  I  have  had  of  His  goodness, 
especially  during  my  residence  abroad,  and  under  the  pecul- 
iar privations  and  afflictions  which  I  was  called  to  sustain 
in  my  domestic  relations,  and  in  being  separated  for  so  long 
a  period  from  the  house  of  God  and  all  social  religious  priv- 
ileges, has  made  a  deep  impression  upon  my  mind.  I  have 
felt  something  like  surprise  that,  under  such  circumstances,  I 
was  not  quite  carried  away  by  the  strong  tide  of  my  own 
corruptions,  and  quite  estranged  from  the  love  of  Christ,  to- 
ward whom  I  was  and  am  conscious  of  great  infidelity  and 
neglect.  Still,  I  was  kept  from  apostasy,  and  returned  to  my 
country  not  worse,  I  trust,  but  rather  a  good  deal  improved 
in  spiritual  things.  I  found  the  throne  of  grace  especially  ac- 
cessible, and  confidence  in  God  unusually  strong  and  easy  to 
be  called  into  exercise.  Upon  the  whole,  I  enjoyed  more 
peace  than  I  ever  did  before,  and  felt  a  more  assured  and 
steady  faith  in  Christ.  I  have  also  been  led  to  the  exercise 

B2 


34  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


of  more  lively  gratitude,  and  have  had  a  more  affecting  sense 
of  the  agency  of  Divine  Providence  in  the  things  which  have 
befallen  me.  This  has  especially  been  my  frame  of  mind 
for  the  last  year  and  a  half,  and  it  now  is.  I  have  seemed 
to  be  led  by  these  feelings  to  a  sense  of  obligation  to  con- 
secrate myself  fully  to  God,  and  to  seek  perfect  conformity 
to  His  will,  which  I  never  realized  to  the  same  extent  be- 
fore. 

I  think  that  I  also  perceive  the  reasonableness  of  the  Meth- 
odist doctrine  of  holiness,  and  its  entire  conformity  to  the  ten- 
or of  the  Scriptures  and  to  the  genius  of  the  Gospel,  with  a 
clearness  and  application  which  they  did  not  formerly  pos- 
sess in  my  view.  And  I  have  been  led  strongly  to  desire  a 
deeper  experience  in  true  vital  religion.  I  have  endeavored 
to  make  a  new  and  solemn  offering  of  soul  and  body  to  Christ, 
and  am  earnestly  seeking  for  the  experience  of  perfect  love. 
I  record  my  feelings  now  and  my  vows  with  the  hope  that 
this  may  give  increased  stability  to  my  purposes,  and  be  the 
means  of  inciting  me  to  greater  diligence  in  seeking  for  all 
the  fullness  of  Christian  experience.  It  will  have  this  effect 
only  if  God  will,  in  whose  sight  and  in  humble  reliance  upon 
the  merits  of  Christ  and  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  here 
enter  iny  solemn  vow,  which  I  have  often  made,  and  which 
I  now  more  formally  repeat,  that  I  will  from  this  hour,  and 
through  all  future  life,  make  God's  will  the  sovereign  rule  of 
my  actions — that  I  will  perpetually  present  before  him,  in 
living  sacrifice,  my  body  and  soul,  my  life  and  health,  my 
humble  talents  and  attainments,  my  influence,  my  time  and 
property,  to  be  used  only  as  a  trust  for  which  I  am  strictly 
accountable.  I  will  not  consult  my  own  will,  but  always 
labor  to  fulfill,  so  far  as  I  may,  the  duty  implied  and  imposed 
upon  Christians  in  the  Savior's  prayer,  "  Not  my  will,  but 
thine,  Father,  be  done."  I  humbly  pray  for  grace  to  keep 
this  solemn  pledge,  which  I  here  record  with  great  delibera- 
tion, and  under  a  deep  sense  of  its  import.  O  God,  give  rne 


ENTIRE     CONSECRATION.  35 

this  needed  grace  for  the  sake  of  the  infinite  merits  of  my 
Lord  and  Savior  Jesus  Christ,  in  humble  reliance  upon  whose 
blood  I  have  come  into  thy  presence  with  this  act  of  self- 
dedication. 

Saratoga  Springs,  August  7th,  1842. 

Since  the  above  record  was  made  of  my  experience  and 
feelings,  I  have  continued  in  nearly  the  same  general  frame 
of  mind  and  heart  as  is  there  expressed.  My  feelings  are 
much  influenced  by  the  condition  of  my  health,  and,  as  my 
complaints  are,  to  a  great  extent,  nervous,  I  experience  con- 
siderable vicissitudes  from  day  to  day,  and  at  different  hours 
of  the  day.  It  is  not  unusual  for  me  to  have  great  clearness 
and  comfort  in  my  morning  devotions,  while  in  the  evening, 
and  at  other  times  of  the  day,  my  mind  is  clouded,  and  my 
feelings  little  moved.  Still,  I  am  preserved  by  Divine  grace 
from  all  despondency.  I  am  able  to  exercise  faith  and  hope, 
commonly  gratitude.  Indeed,  there  is  no  view  I  can  take  of 
God  and  his  dealings  with  me,  that  does  not  very  impress- 
ively teach  the  duty,  and  really  excite  the  feeling  of  grati- 
tude. I  have  encountered  an  unusual  proportion  of  sickness, 
disappointment,  bereavement ;  but  these,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
have  only  afforded  more  and  more  eminent  occasions  for  the 
manifestations  of  the  Divine  mercy.  This  is  precisely  that 
part  of  my  history  to  which  I  am  accustomed  to  look  when  I 
would  provoke  my  heart  to  thanksgiving  and  praise  ;  I  often 
think  that,  had  I  been  less  afflicted,  I  must  of  necessity  have 
received  fewer  tokens  of  God's  care  and  'love.  I  am  able  to 
see  his  hand  with  especial  clearness  in  the  deliverances  which 
he  has  wrought  for  me — in  the  provision  which  he  has  made 
for  my  comfort  and  safety,  when  sick  and  alone  in  foreign 
lands,  among  strangers  and  heathen — in  restoring  me  to  life 
arid  a  degree  of  health  so  often,  when  I  had  no  reasonable 
prospect  of  recovery — in  supplying  all  my  wants,  and  grant- 
ing me  a  degree  of  pecuniary  independence,  and  even  ena- 


36  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

bling  me  to  give  aid  to  others — in  imparting  to  me  perpetual 
cheerfulness — in  keeping  me  from  being  burdensome  to  my 
friends,  either  through  my  pecuniary  wants  or  my  infirmi- 
ties, my  complaints  being  such  as  usually  demand  no  nurs- 
ing, and  as  almost  never  to  render  me  helpless. 

And  as  to  my  direct  religious  enjoyments,  how  very  strik- 
ing and  impressive  is  the  goodness  of  God  in  the  preservation 
of  my  hopes  and  comforts  under  circumstances  apparently  so 
little  favorable  to  growth  in  grace  and  progress  in  spiritual 
life  !  I  am  wholly  unable  to  attend  upon  the  preaching  of 
the  Gospel,  or  other  means  of  grace,  social  or  public.  I  can 
perform  long  journeys,  take  long  walks,  read  or  write  for  sev- 
eral hours  in  the  day ;  but  a  single  half  hour  in  a  place  of 
public  worship  produces  sleepless  nights,  and  days  of  disorder 
and  anguish.  As  a  matter  of  duty,  I  refrain  from  exposing 
myself  to  these  painful  and  certain  consequences  of  enjoying 
what  I  always  prized  as  the  dearest  of  privileges.  It  has  cost 
me  a  protracted  struggle  to  yield  willingly  and  witluwt  re- 
serve to  this  privation.  It  is  precisely  in  this  matter  that  I 
have  the  clearest  manifestation  of  the  Divine  mercy.  These 
years  of  estrangement  from  the  sanctuary  have  been  my  best 
years.  I  never  before  experienced  such  rest  in  Christ — such 
calm,  unshaken  faith — such  ready,  unreserved  consent  of  the 
heart  to  the  Divine  will — such  an  utter  surrender  of  my  own 
will  to  God's.  I  can  not  find,  after  much  prayerful  examin- 
ation, that  I  have  any  disposition  to  do  or  to  love  any  thing 
that  is  not  well-pleasing  in  His  sight.  I  write  this  with 
great  self-distrust,  but  as  the  result  of  self-examination.  Such 
a  state  of  the  affections  in  a  Christian  so  little  advanced,  and 
so  specially  undeserving  as  I  feel  myself  to  be,  appears  in- 
credible to  me,  and  I  am  constantly  looking  for  the  develop- 
ment of  a  still  unsanctified  nature.  In  the  mean  time,  I  ad- 
mire the  grace  of  God  ;  I  am  surely  thankful  for  the  mani- 
festations of  regard  toward  the  most  unworthy,  unprofitable 
of  his  servants. 


ENTIRE     CONSECRATION.  37 

I  would  record  it  as  a  special  mercy  that  I  have  been  en- 
abled for  several  months  past  to  study  from  three  to  five 
hours  daily.  I  went  up  from  New  York  to  my  brother's,  in 
Vermont,  last  September,  in  a  deplorable  state  of  health,  hav- 
ing little  prospect  of  rising  again  to  my  usual  low  standard 
of  strength  and  comfort.  I  began  to  mend  in  October.  On 
the  26th  of  November  I  began  to  revise,  or,  more  properly, 
with  regard  to  the  most  of  it,  to  recompose  my  journal  in 
Egypt,  Arabia,  and  Palestine.  I  aimed  no  higher  than  to 
prepare  a  few  pages  for  the  Methodist  Quarterly  Review,  at 
the  editor's  request.  I  was,  however,  able  to  continue  the 
work  with  not  more  than  eight  days'  interruption  from  sick- 
ness, until  the  1st  of  August,  when  I  left  home  for  this  place, 
having  gone  over  the  ground  I  design  to  occupy  with  a  pub- 
lication. I  had  a  strong  desire  to  prepare  my  travels  for  the 
press,  but  had  quite  despaired  of  being  able  to  do  it,  as  I  had 
been  sick  more  than  a  year  after  my  return  to  the  United 
States.  I  esteem  it  a  great  mercy  to  have  been  able  so  far 
to  accomplish  this  desire.  It  is  hastily  and  very  imperfectly 
done.  I  was  afraid  to  take  time  to  elaborate.  My  object — 
I  hope  my  main  object — has  been  to  produce  a  work  that  may 
be  useful,  especially  to  the  young,  in  leading  them  to  a  great- 
er reverence  and  a  better  understanding  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, the  natural  though  indirect  tendency  of  a  work  writ- 
ten with  truth  and  simplicity  upon  these  countries.  I  have 
thought  that  my  extensive  acquaintance  in  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  the  confidence  of  many  excellent  ministers  which 
I  am  happy  to  enjoy,  might  open  the  way  for  the  circulation 
of  such  a  book,  and  that  I  might  in  this  way  do  some  good, 
though  laid  aside  from  the  ministry.  These  have  been  my 
aims  and  hopes.  I  have  not  expected  literary  reputation,  nor 
sought  it.  I  have  offered  the  work  from  day  to  day,  I  may 
almost  say  from  hour  to  hour,  during  its  progress,  to  God.  I 
have  constantly  sought  his  help  to  guide  me,  to  save  me 
from  low,  ambitious,  selfish  motives  ;  and  now  I  think  I  may 


38  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

say  of 'it,  at  least  as  confidently  as  of  any  undertaking  of  rny 
life,  that  it  has  been  enterprised  and  prosecuted  "  in  sim- 
plicity and  godly  sincerity."  The  employment  prosecuted 
under  the  influence  of  such  motives  and  such  trust  in  God, 
has  been  a  source  of  daily  pleasure.  I  commit  the  result,  as 
I  have  often  done,  to  the  Almighty,  praying  for  his  blessing 
upon  it  through  Jesus  Christ. 

An  extract  of  a  letter  from  the  Rev.  Samuel  C.  Jack- 
son describes  in  vivid  phrase  an  interview  between 
friends,  the  warmth  of  whose  affectionate  attachment 
knew  no  change.  Theirs  was  one  of  those  friendships 
which  look  to  a  more  favored  clime  for  full  develop- 
ment and  expansion. 

"At  our  next  meeting,"  says  that  gentleman,  "he  had 
reached  the  summit  of  his  usefulness  and  fame.  He  had 
been  successfully  connected  with  different  colleges  as  a  pro- 
fessor or  president.  He  was  ranked  among  the  first  of  the 
most  celebrated  preachers  of  his  country  ;  he  had  visited  for- 
eign lands,  and,  as  an  author,  had  instructed  the  public  by 
his  excellent  volumes  of  travels,  and — what  was  then  deeply 
and  personally  interesting  to  myself — during  this  tour  Provi- 
dence cast  him,  weary  and  sick,  into  the  family  of  my  youn- 
gest and  tenderly-beloved  sister  at  Constantinople.  There,  for 
some  weeks,  her  kindness  ministered  to  his  comfort,  and  her 
gentle  and  delicate  spirit  made  him  welcome.  In  America, 
she  had  shared  her  brother's  regard  for  him  who  was  now 
her  guest,  and  to  meet  and  befriend  him  in  her  own  home 
abroad  was  a  pleasure  which  only  Christian  friendship  which 
has  been  bereaved  and  denied  could  appreciate.  As  soon 
as  circumstances  permitted,  after  Dr.  Olin's  return  to  this 
country,  he  met  me  by  appointment  at  my  own  house.  I 
was  then  a  country  pastor,  having  had  all  my  religious  and 
professional  life,  since  we  last  saw  each  other,  at  the  home 
of  my  childhood,  among  the  green  mountains  of  our  native 


A    MEMORABLE     INTERVIEW.  39 


state.  It  was  a  memorable  interview  !  Few  such  occur  in 
any  life  !  It  was  the  second  since  we  met  in  his  sick-room 
on  the  day  of  his  graduation.  Between  that  day  and  our 
next  meeting  at  my  father's  house,  what  a  change  in  him  ! 
And  now  again,  since  the  morning  of  our  parting  in  Shafts- 
bury,  Vermont,  what  a  change  !  Then  he  was  on  the  thresh- 
old of  his  public  life.  Then  all  his  achievements  for  the 
Church  and  the  world  were  in  the  future.  Now  he  was  in 
the  meridian  of  his  strength.  The  distinction  predicted  of 
him  was  a  reality.  He  was  the  mature,  honored,  great  man 
— of  commanding  intellect,  extensive  attainments,  rare  pow- 
ers of  eloquence,  wide-spread  usefulness,  great  influence  over 
the  most  numerous  religious  denomination,  his  name  and  fame 
still  extending, 

"  '  And  the  elements 

So  mixed  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  this  was  a  man? 

His  varied  treasures  of  information,  gathered  by  extensive 
travel  and  intercourse  in  this  country  and  in  other  lands  ;  his 
shrewd  and  common-sense  observation  of  men  and  things  ; 
his  vivacious,  facile,  and  original  powers  of  expression ;  his 
unconscious  exhibition  of  intellectual  supremacy,  together 
with  his  entire  simplicity  of  manners  and  generosity  of  spirit, 
rendered  him  no  ordinary  guest  and  companion  at  a  greeting 
of  old  friends,  or  in  any  circle  of  friendship  and  intelligence. 
"  My  last  interview  with  him  was  at  my  place  of  business 

in ,  where  I  had  met  him  once  before.     It  was  during 

the  winter  previous  to  his  decease.  With  a  common  friend 
he  entered,  gave  his  cordial  greeting,  dropped  a  few  of  his 
expressive  and  pointed  utterances,  with  a  friendly  welcome  to 
his  home,  and  withdrew,  to  come  no  more.  He  is  dead,  and 
yet  he  lives — lives  on  earth.  True  greatness  is  immortal !" 


40  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

Letters  written  in  1841  and  1842. 

LXIII.  TO  THE  REV.  BISHOP  ANDREW. 

Saratoga  Springs,  July  8th,  1841. 

You  have  perhaps  thought  me  forgetful  of  my  promise  to 
•write  you,  if  able,  soon  after  my  arrival  at  my  Northern  home. 
I  have  not  been  able  to  write  hitherto,  and  my  nieces,  whom 
I  intended  to  employ  as  amanuenses,  were  absent  from  home 
attending  school. 

I  had  a  pretty  rough  voyage  of  nearly  eight  days.  I  was 
much  pleased  with  Captain  Brown.  I  stayed  at  New  York 
eighteen  days,  including  five  of  the  Conference,  which  I  vis- 
ited three  or  four  times,  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  at  a  sitting. 
I  was  compelled  to  leave  by  ill  health.  I  found  my  brother 
in  improved  health,  for  which  I  can  not  be  thankful  enough. 
I  stayed  with  him  about  three  weeks,  and  have  been  here 
the  same  period.  As  to  my  health,  I  remained  in  about  the 
same  state  until  since  I  arrived  in  this  place,  languid  and 
dyspeptic,  just  able  to  walk  a  few  yards.*  I  am  now  stron- 
ger, which  I  ascribe  to  the  water.  I  walked  nearly  a  mile 
this  morning — the  greatest  exploit  I  have  achieved  since  last 
fall.  I  of  course  take  some  encouragement,  and  hope  the 
water  may  prove  decidedly  useful  to  rne.  Be  that  and  all 
things  as  God  wills.  I  am  much  more  habituated  to  look 
upon  my  complaints  as  susceptible  of  no  remedies  but  such 
as  their  final  result  will  introduce  me  to.  And  God  has  long 
enabled  me  to  look  to  that  with  composure  and  joy.  I  can 
not  expect  health,  and  yet  who  shall  limit  the  Divine  power 
and  goodness  ?  Him  may  I  honor  in  death  or  in  life.  If  the 
water  continue  to  act  favorably,  I  shall  probably  spend  the 
summer  here. 

I  have  not  yet  bought  the  little  farm  I  spoke  of,  though  I 

*  The  night  of  the  day  of  his  arrival  in  the  United  States,  he  had 
a  return  of  the  malignant  fever  contracted  among  the  fens  of  the 
Danube,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  had  not  yet  recovered. 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1841.  41 


am  in  treaty  for  one  in  West  Poultney.  I  fear  the  climate, 
and  am  yet  without  any  settlement  of  mind  upon  the  matter. 
My  Southern  attachments  and  habits  draw  me  powerfully  in 
the  opposite  direction. 

I  sent  you  and  brother  Capers  walking-sticks  from  Mount 
Sinai,  by  T.  Stewart.  His  is  marked  Jordan,  but  is,  like 
yours,  from  Mount  Sinai. 

LXIV.  TO  MISS  MARY  ANN  HOWARD. 

Salisbury,  Vermont,  October  13th,  1841. 

I  have  felt  much  concern  at  not  hearing  from  you  for  so 
long  a  time,  and  I  am  led  to  fear  that  a  letter  which  I  ad- 
dressed to  you  at  the  Merriwether  Springs  miscarried.  It 
must  have  been  near  the  last  of  August  when  I  wrote  to  you. 
I  was  in  New  Utrecht,  on  Long  Island.  I  left  Saratoga  about 
the  middle  of  that  month  to  proceed  to  the  White  Sulphur 
Springs,  but  on  reaching  New  York  I  found  myself  too  unwell 
to  proceed,  and  my  physician  advised  me  to  give  over  my  jour- 
ney as  highly  perilous.  I  had  intended,  after  spending  some 
time  in  Virginia,  to  proceed  to  Georgia,  after  returning  to  New 
York  for  a  few  days  only,  if  able.  I  spent  three  weeks  on 
Long  Island  for  the  benefit  of  sea  air,  which  proved  injurious 
to  me,  and  I  then  came,  with  no  little  difficulty,  to  this  place, 
more  feeble  and  emaciated  than  I  had  been  for  many  months. 
I  have  since  regained  a  good  deal  of  strength,  and  am  in  that 
respect,  very  much  as  I  was  last  winter  in  Georgia — possibly, 
a  little  better.  Here  it  is  my  intention  to  spend  the  winter, 
unless  some  indications  should  compel  me  to  attempt  a  jour- 
ney southward,  which,  with  my  entire  unfitness  for  traveling, 
I  should  greatly  dread.  The  fierce  winter  of  this  climate, 
which  already  begins  to  show  its  teeth,  has  many  terrors  for 
me  ;  but  I  hope,  by  means  of  warm  apartments,  and  an  am- 
ple provision  of  blankets  and  other  like  appliances,  to  endure 
it  without  serious  inconvenience.  I  shall,  no  doubt,  have  fre- 
quent occasion  to  think  of  the  sunny  skies  of  beloved  Georgia, 


42  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

as  I  certainly  shall  of  the  dear,  kind  friends  there,  who  form 
a  stronger  attraction  than  even  the  balmy  climate  which 
they  inhabit.  I  should  be  glad  to  spend  all  the  winters  as 
well  as  summers  that  may  remain  to  me  in  their  "agreeable 
society;  but  God  disposes  of  these  things  for  us,  not  always  as 
we  should  choose,  but  always  for  the  best. 

You  will  perceive,  from  my  present  arrangement,  that  I  can 
not  comply  with  your  father's  request  to  bring  him  a  pair  of 
horses  and  carriage.  I  wrote  with  regard  to  this  before. 

I  will  thank  you  to  make  my  affectionate  saluta- 
tions to  your  father  and  mother,  to  sister  Caroline,  Arabella, 
and  all  the  children.  I  think  with  great  pleasure  of  you  all, 
and  pray  that  our  merciful  God  may  shower  his  blessings 
upon  you.  I  pray  especially  that  you  may  all  be  made  the 
partakers  of  his  rich  saving  grace  by  Christ  Jesus.  Of  this 
I  must  always  be  allowed  to  speak  as  the  best  of  blessings, 
as  it  is,  of  all  things,  most  precious  to  me.  Surely  I  shall, 
through  this  abounding  grace,  enjoy  many  dear  friends  in 
heaven.  One,  beloved  above  all,  has  gone  before  me.  Many 
more — you,  my  dear  niece,  and  your  dear  family,  though  yet 
exposed  to  the  world's  temptations — I  ever  hope  and  pray  to 
meet,  with  her,  in  heaven 

LXV.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON,  BROOKLYN. 

Salisbury,  November  20th,  1841. 
I  lose  no  time  in  answering  your  favor  of  the  16th  instant, 

which  came  to  hand  last  evening My  residence 

in  Vermont  this  winter  will  depend  wholly  upon  the  state  of 
my  health.  I  shall  certainly  remain  here  if  I  can ;  and  so 
far  the  cold  weather  has  appeared  to  be  favorable,  certainly 
not  injurious  to  me.  Indeed,  I  have  to  thank  God  for  a  de- 
gree of  strength  and  comfort  quite  beyond  any  thing  I  have 
previously  enjoyed  since  my  return  to  America.  If,  contrary 
to  present  indications,  I  should  be  compelled  to  seek  a  milder 
climate,  I  should,  in  all  probability,  continue  my  flight  to 
Georgia. 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1841.  43 


I  am  greatly  afflicted  at  what  you  say  of  the  feeble  health 
of  Dr.  Bangs.  I  trust  that  your  fears  magnify  the  danger,  es- 
pecially as  he  is  now  better.  I  pray  that  it  may  be  long  be- 
fore his  eye  grows  dim  or  his  natural  strength  abates.  Fail 
or  fall  when  he  will,  however,  he  will  have  run  a  noble  race 
— a  man  of  God — full  of  good  works — ready  always  for  any 
service — shunning  no  responsibility — he  will  leave  few  equals 
behind  him  in  our  Church.  I  have  known  but  to  love  and 

respect  him  for  nearly  twenty  years Write  rne 

at  large  on  all  church  matters.     I  am  in  a  corner,  you  in  the 
locus  of  light. 

LXVI.  TO  DR.  AND  MRS.  PALMER. 

Salisbury,  November  29th,  1841. 

Your  very  friendly  letter  was  duly  received,  and  though  I 
have  not  made  haste  to  thank  you  for  the  kind  solicitude  for 
my  health,  and  the  affecting  religious  sentiments  with  which 
it  is  fraught,  yet  I  now  do  so  with  unfeigned  sincerity.  I 
have  long  esteemed  the  intercourse  which  I  have  been  per- 
mitted to  hold  with  devout  lively  Christians  to  be  one  of 
those  peculiar  blessings  for  which  I  am  bound  to  thank  God, 
and  take  courage  in  my  journey  to  heaven.  I  had  nearly 
said  peculiarly  bound  to  thank  God  ;  but  with  the  rich  ex- 
perience I  have  had,  and  still  have  of  the  Divine  goodness,  I 
know  not  on  what  to  lay  especial  emphasis  in  my  thanksgiv- 
ings, except  upon  the  gift  of  Jesus  to  be  the  Savior  of  the 
world,  through  which  all  other  benefits  flow  out  upon  us  in 
profusion.  Beyond  this,  I  know  not  for  what  I  should  be 
most  grateful.  I  am  soon  lost  if  I  attempt  to  enumerate  to 
myself  or  before  God  the  unnumbered  blessings  I  enjoy. 
None  of  them  seem  to  be  small,  since  all  are  the  occasion  of 
quickening  my  sense  of  the  Divine  goodness,  and  of  inclining 
me  more  and  more  to  commit  all  my  ways  to  God.  All 
seem  to  me  to  provoke  to  love,  to  faith,  to  resignation  ;  in  a 
word,  to  that  blessed  repose  in  God  which  describes,  better 


44  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

than  any  other  expression  I  am  able  to  use,  the  state  of  my 
mind  and  heart. 

I  hardly  know  what  I  could  ask  for  in  addition  to  what  I 
receive  day  by  day  from  my  heavenly  Father.  Great  religious 
joys  I  do  not  possess,  nor,  in  my  situation,  do  I  think  them 
greatly  desirable.  I  think  I  am  enabled,  in  some  good  de- 
gree, "  to  rejoice  evermore — to  pray  without  ceasing,  and  in 
every  thing  give  thanks."  I  rather  pray  for  a  continuance 
of  this  state  of  the  heart,  and  for  such  faith,  resignation, 
and  uprightness  of  soul  as  may  at  once  insure  its  continu- 
ance, and  constitute  a  meet  sacrifice  to  God  through  Christ, 
than  for  any  new  bestowment. 

I  am  here  led  to  speak  of  the  most  prominent  topic  in 
your  letter.  I  cordially  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  Christian 
holiness,  and  my  highest  aspiration  is  that  I  may  live  with- 
out sin,  perfecting  holiness  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  God  is 
my  witness  how  fervently  and  incessantly  I  strive  and  pray 
for  this.  And  yet,  when  I  ask  for  the  witness  that  I  am  now 
in  the  enjoyment  of  this  high  spiritual  state,  I  feel  something 
like  a  rebuke.  I  am  thrown  back  upon  the  peace  I  enjoy — 
the  sweet  repose  in  Christ  which  I  feel  to  be  mine — the  ab- 
sorption of  my  own  will  into  that  of  God,  which,  so  far  as  I 
know  myself,  I  constantly  experience.  What  more  should  I 
ask  ?  only  that  these  things  may  remain  in  me  and  bring  forth 
their  proper  fruits — that  I  may  be  ever  thankful,  humble, 
faithful,  believing,  simple-hearted,  and  blameless  and  zealous 
in  my  life. 

I  will  confess,  however,  that  this  general  spiritual  satis- 
faction, if  I  may  so  speak,  is  accompanied  by  a  strong  wish, 
I  may  say  is  a  little  disturbed  at  times,  by  a  wish  to  possess 
all  that  I  yet  lack  of  the  fullness  of  the  Gospel,  whether  that 
deficiency  may  consist  in  a  want  of  deeper  experience  or  a 
clearer  evidence.  I  pray  for  this  from  day  to  day,  and  I  am 
filled,  in  answer  to  my  prayers,  with  confidence  in  God,  and 
unruffled,  inestimable  peace.  You  will  know  how  to  receive 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.  45 

this  very  frank  disclosure,  and  I  hope  will  pray  for  me  often, 
that  I  may  be  led  in  a  perfect  way. 

My  health  is  a  good  deal  better  than  it  was  when  I  saw 
you  last.  I  ride  and  walk  pretty  much  as  I  desire,  and  am 
usually  able  to  devote  one,  two,  or  three  hours  to  books  or  my 
pen.  This  is  better  than  I  expected  I  should  ever  be,  even 
three  months  ago.  I  allow  myself  to  look  to  the  possibility 
of  once  more  doing  some  service  to  the  Church,  and  I  thank 
God  that  I  am  enabled  to  look  to  such  a  consummation  even 
without  much  perturbation — resigned  perfectly  to  his  good 
pleasure.  The  cold  weather,  not  yet  intense,  has  not  harmed 
me,  and  I  still  hope  to  winter  here.  I  hope  to  hear  from  you 
as  often  as  may  comport  with  your  more  serious  duties  and 
engagements. 

XLVII.  TO  THE  REV.  JAMES  FLOY. 

Salisbury,  Jan.  30th,  1842. 

I  was  gratified  by  the  receipt  of  your  favor  of  the  17th  in- 
stant. It  did  not  reach  me  until  the  25th,  a  week  after  I 
had  attentively  read  your  thanksgiving  sermon,  with  which 
you  were  so  obliging  as  to  furnish  me.  Some  of  the  choicest 
pleasures  of  my  life  I  owe  to  the  correspondence  of  pious,  in- 
telligent men.  Years  of  ill  health,  during  which  I  have  been 
unable  to  reciprocate  their  favors,  and  the  shafts  of  death, 
which  have  fallen  thick  upon  the  ranks  of  my  cherished 
friends,  as  well  as  desolated  my  domestic  circle,  have  left  me 
but  a  comparatively  small  number  of  those  with  whom  I 
was  accustomed  to  take  sweet  counsel.  I  have  felt,  and  still 
deeply  feel,  the  irreparable  losses  I  have  been  called  to  sus- 
tain ;  but  I  would  not  complain,  nor  indulge  too  much  in  sad- 
dening regrets.  These  dear  friends  are  happy  with  Christ. 
I  would  not  recall  one  of  them — no,  not  even  her  who  was 
more  to  me  than  all  other  friends  but  the  blessed  Savior, 
whom  she  now  sees  face  to  face. 

I  am  becoming,  with  my  improving  health,  more  and  more 


46  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

conscious  of  social  wants  ;  and  I  was  glad  to  receive  from  you 
what,  I  hope,  will  prove  only  the  first  of  many  communica- 
tions touching  the  precious  interests  of  the  Church,  and  the 
best  means  for  promoting  our  own  attainments  and  improve- 
ment in  personal  piety. 

I  would  very  gladly  offer  any  observations  upon  your  ser- 
mon that  would  afford  you  a  useful  hint,  but  I  have  little 
confidence  in  my  own  opinions  and  tastes  in  matters  of  this 
sort.  I  have  written  but  little,  and  no  sermons — having  been 
compelled  to  act,  when  I  had  a  little  health,  rather  than 
study  or  write.  I  should  make  but  a  poor  return,  however, 
for  your  frankness  and  kindness,  should  I  forbear  the  expres- 
sion of  my  opinions  because  I  do  not  think  highly  of  them. 
I  was  gratified  by  the  perusal  of  one  or  two  articles  ascribed 
to  you  in  the  Methodist  Quarterly.  I  was  especially  struck 
with  your  simple,  direct,  transparent  language,  and  appropri- 
ate, felicitous  illustrations.  I  was  at  that  time  unacquainted 
with  your  ability  to  write  well,  and  I  thought  more  than 
once  of  writing  to  you  to  request  you  to  improve  a  talent 
which  you  could  make  useful  to  the  Church.  I  hope  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  reading  the  productions  of  your  pen  frequently 
in  our  periodicals.  It  is  incumbent  on  those  who  can  write 
to  improve  their  talent  in  this  way.  The  direct  fruit  may  be 
less  than  in  some  other  kinds  of  effort,  but  not  so,  I  think,  the 
indirect  and  ultimate 

LXVIII.  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  MERRIAM. 

Salisbury,  Feb.  26th,  1842. 

I  have  long  been  anxious  to  hear  from  you,  and  I  think  I 
may  say,  have  waited  for  a  letter  to  which  I  thought  myself 
in  some  measure  entitled,  from  my  having  written  to  you  from 
Georgia  in  March,  1841. 

The  winter  is  unusually  mild,  and  we  have  had  but  little 
sleighing.  The  mercury  has  not  been  below  zero  in  Fahren- 
heit above  half  a  dozen  times.  My  health  is  much  improved 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.'  47 

since  the  coming  on  of  cold  weather.  I  spent  much  of  the 
last  cold  season  in  the  South,  and  then  came  back  in  May 
no  better.  The  summer  I  passed  at  Saratoga  and  on  the  sea- 
coast,  after  which  I  came  here  in  September,  and  have  been 
here  ever  since.  I  came  up  from  New  York  in  that  time  in 
a  deplorable  state — as  seemed  probable,  to  go  to  my  final  rest 
in  a  few  months  at  most,  by  the  side  of  our  departed  parents. 
Such  was  not  the  will  of  God  concerning  me.  I  began  to 
get  better  in  October,  and  from  the  last  days  of  November  I 
have  been  able  to  walk  or  ride  daily  ;  have  not  once  lain  upon 
the  bed  on  account  of  sickness ;  and  have  read  or  written 
every  working  day,  except  two  or  three,  as  long  as  three  or 
more  hours. 

I  am  beset  with  a  very  strong  desire  to  visit  you  all  in  Il- 
linois. Still,  it  looks  much  like  an  impossibility.  I  have 
too  many  infirmities  to  render  journeyings  and  absence  from 
home  tolerable  to  me.  It  takes  a  multitude  of  appliances  to 
make  me  comfortable.  The  slightest  deviation  from  my  us- 
ual and  straitened  diet  puts  every  thing  wrong.  I  dare  not, 
if  I  were  able,  come  into  the  West  in  summer  or  autumn. 
In  winter  the  traveling  is  bad.  Have  not  I  made  out  a  case 
of  impossibility  ?  Yet  I  may  be  better,  and  so  able  to  grati- 
fy my  strong  desire  to  visit  you.  I  do  not  expect  to  do  any 
good  any  where.  I  am  used  up  too  far  for  that,  I  think.  If 
God  wants  me,  he  will  give  strength.  He  does  not  need  me, 
I  kiiow  ;  but  it  may  possibly  comport  with  his  designs  to  use 
me  a  little  more.  Still,  I  do  not  expect  it.  He  enables  me 
to  repose  in  Him — in  Christ — and  I  am  not  careful ;  having, 
however,  a  desire  rather  to  work  a  little  more  than  to  depart 
at  present. 

Do  write  a  very  full  letter,  and  tell  all  about  yourselves, 
and  brother  and  sister  Adams — of  your  children,  your  farms, 
your  prosperity,  and  your  progress  in  making  yourselves  com- 
fortable in  .that  new  country.  Are  you  all  content — glad  that 


48  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


you  went  ?     We  all  unite  in  many  good  wishes  and  prayers 
for  you  all. 

Affectionately  yours,  S.  OLIN. 

LXIX.  TO  THE  REV.  BISHOP  ANDREW. 

Salisbury,  Vt.,  March  6th,  1842. 

I  received  your  letter  of  January  21st.  I  fear  to  obtrude 
upon  you  in  your  deep  afflictions,  though  I  very  often  am 
with  you  in  spirit  and  in  my  sympathies.  I  am  sure  you 
have  the  benefit  of  many  prayers  offered  by  pious  souls,  both 
for  the  removal  of  your  sufferings,  and  that  grace  may  be 
given  you  to  bear  them  aright.  After  all,  however,  that 
sympathy  or  even  grace  can  do,  the  burden  of  such  trials  as 
you  are  called  to  endure  must  be  heavy  indeed,  and  it  is  only 
in  the  end,  when  their  fruits  appear,  that  they  cease  to  be 
grievous,  and  become  even  joyous.  There  is  a  tendency  in 
these  overwhelming  sorrows  that  is  always  good — a  tendency 
to  drive  us  to  God,  which  almost  reconciles  me  to  them  ;  and 
I  have  seldom  ever  enjoyed  more  than  when,  unable  to  rise 
in  faith,  I  have  sunk  in  self-despair — unable  to  take  hold  on 
God,  I  have  fallen  upon  him  in  sheer  helplessness.  Such  a 
frame  sometimes  enables  me  to  claim  God  as  my  heavenly 
Father  with  peculiar  effect,  and  to  enter  into  a  special  com- 
munion with  Christ,  as  one  who  may  be  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  our  infirmities.  Pardon  me  ;  I  know  to  whom  I 
speak,  and  I  am  not  to  admonish  or  teach.  You  will  not 
judge  me  so  harshly  as  to  think  so,  but  I  spontaneously  fall 
into  such  a  train.  I  am  acquainted  with  grief.  I  can  not 
look  upon  scenes  that  are  passed  but  with  agony  of  spirit. 
Time  has  broken  their  tyrannizing  power  over  me,  but  it  has 
not  healed  the  wound  in  my  spirit ;  and  when  I  meet  with 
a  sufferer,  such  as  God  is  making  you,  I  find  myself  telling 
my  own  tale  of  sorrow,  the  particulars  of  which  come  up  be- 
fore me,  mingled,  I  know  not  how,  with  religious  feelings. 
I  weep  and  rejoice  together.  My  heart  is  at  once  broken 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.  49 

and  soothed — the  rod  arid  the  love  of  God — his  severity  and 
his  compassion — rise  in  review  before  me,  and  divide  the 
present,  as  they  seem  to  have  done  the  past,  between  them. 
In  such  a  state  of  feeling  I  find  an  apology  for  speaking  of 
myself,  which,  I  fear,  my  most  indulgent  friends  can  not  ad- 
mit without  some  effort.  I  still  indulge  a  hope  that  you  will 
be  spared  the  bitter  cup  which  seems  to  be  preparing  for  you, 
and  that  you  will  long  be  happy  in  the  unbroken  family  cir- 
cle where  you  have  hitherto  gathered  so  rich  a  harvest  of 
quiet,  heart- felt  enjoyments.  I  hope  you  do  not  allow  your- 
self to  be  anxious  about  the  Church  and  the  services  which 
you  are  prevented  from  rendering.  I  am  sure  there  will  be 
no  feeling  on  this  subject  but  one  of  deep  sympathy  and  of 
regret  for  the  causes  which  detain  you  from  your  beloved 
work. 

1  am  little  able  to  give  you  any  information  about  the  state 
of  things  even  in  the  region  about  me — I  lead  a  life  so  very 
retired.  I  hear,  however,  of  many  revivals,  and  am  confident 
that  our  cause  is  decidedly  advancing  through  this  North 
country.  Our  people  make  vigorous  efforts,  often  great  sac- 
rifices, to  sustain  preaching — such  as  are  unknown  in  many 
parts  of  the  work.  They  are  building  many  good  houses  of 
worship — more  by  far  than  any  other  people,  and  every  thing 
promises  permanence. 

.  .  .  .  My  increasing  strength,  which  is  yet  inconsid- 
erable, leads  me  to  inquire,  "  Lprd,  what  wilt  thou  have  me 
to  do  ?"  I  want  to  preach  above  all  things,  but  probably 
shall  never  be  able.  As  to  teaching,  I  both  fear  and  rather 
dislike  it — at  least,  I  would  prefer  other  work.  I  have  had 
a  letter  from  Dr.  Bascom  about  being  president  of  Transyl- 
vania College,  upon  which  I  threw  cold  water.  God  is  my 
witness  that  I  have  an  unfeigned  desire  to  serve  him  to  the 
utmost  of  my  ability,  how  and  where  he  may  choose  ;  so  feel- 
ing, I  wait  and  pray  for  direction. 
II.  0 


50  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


LXX.  TO  DR.  AND  MRS.  PALMER. 

Salisbury,  March  20th,  1842. 

Your  favor  was  duly  received.  I  have  deferred  answering 
it  to  the  present  time,  partly  because  I  have  been  very  much 
engaged,  and  partly  because  I  would  not  show  too  much 
carelessness  in  encroaching  upon  your  time,  which  I  know  is 
fully  occupied  in  useful  pursuits.  Indeed,  I  often  think  that 
you  are  peculiarly  fortunate  in  this  respect — I  mean  in  being 
able  to  devote  so  many  hours  to  public  and  social  religious 
engagements  in  addition  to  the  performance  of  your  profes- 
sional and  domestic  duties.  Next  to  the  entire  consecration 
of  life  to  the  promulgation  of  the  Gospel  in  the  Christian 
ministry,  I  am  sure  yours  is  the  most  excellent  way  ;  I  think, 
too,  it  has  some  advantages  even  over  the  ministry,  which, 
with  one  class  of  good  men,  falls  into  a  sort  ^.professional 
piety,  and  with  another,  less  numerous,  class  into  a  continu- 
ous excitement,  not  very  favorable  to  the  calmness  and  pauses 
which  are  necessary  for  the  purpose  of  making  up  our  reck- 
oning and  marking  our  actual  progress.  Strong  passions  and 
unsanctified  affections  will  often  consent  to  merge  religious 
excitement  and  zeal,  and  flow  along  in  the  same  channel  with 
them — even  to  swell  their  tide,  when  they  quite  refuse  the 
processes  by  which  the  Spirit  of  God  would  purify  or  eradi- 
cate them  ;  and  I  think  that  it  very  often  happens  that  men 
greatly  absorbed  in  the  promotion  of  revivals  and  other  act- 
ive, exciting  pursuits,  find,  when  a  season  for  repose  and  self- 
examination  is  allowed  them,  that  the  flame  which  they  have 
aided  in  sustaining  has  failed  to  purge  away  the  dross,  and 
purify  the  gold  of  their  own  hearts — that  pride  and  self-will 
may  even  have  grown  strong  in  the  midst  of  influences  that 
have  humbled  many  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  It  is,  perhaps, 
left  to  a  season  of  general  declension  to  revive  the  graces  and 
elevate  the  piety  of  the  minister.  He  was  too  busy,  too  in- 
tensely absorbed  before  in  building  up  the  Redeemer's  king- 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.  51 

dom  around  him,  for  which,  indeed,  he  was  for  the  time  spe- 
cially anointed,  to  bestow  much  attention,  upon  himself. 

It  has  occurred  to  me  that  your  course  of  life,  which  is 
made  up  of  alternations  of  secular  and  religious  engagements, 
may  perhaps  be  as  favorable  as  any  other  to  the  cultivation 
of  deep  piety,  and  for  the  formation  of  vigorous,  healthful,  re- 
ligious character.  I  need  not  say  to  you  that  I  do  not  design 
a  compliment  by  these  remarks.  I  know  too  well  that  fa- 
vorable opportunities  impose  stringent  and  sacred  obligations. 
Nor  do  I  allow  myself  to  think  disparagingly  of  the  holy  call- 
ing of  the  ministry,  which  I  love  and  honor  above  all  pur- 
suits— and. not  the  least  for  the  opportunities  which  it  affords 
of  encircling  the  brow  with  a  diadem  of  many  shining  stars. 
It  is  good,  however,  to  contemplate  the  peculiar  privileges 
and  spiritual  advantages  of  every  situation  in  life.  It  tends 
to  inspire  admiration  for  the  unsearchable  wisdom  of  God, 
who  has  kncrwn  how  to  connect  with  the  condition  of  every 
good  man  peculiar  facilities  for  becoming  eminently  pious 
and  useful.  It  is  a  deeply  interesting  view  to  take  of  his  dis- 
pensations toward  the  children  of  men.  Who  is  able  to  say 
— who  can  pretend  to  determine,  which  is  the  most  favorable 
situation  for  glorifying  God  and  working  out  their  salvation  ? 
When  engaged  in  the  active  duties  of  the  ministry,  I  have 
thought  there  was  nothing  half  so  favorable  to  growth  in 
grace  as  the  elevating,  exciting  scenes,  and  pursuits,  and  con- 
templations into  which  it  leads  the  zealous,  warm-hearted 
preacher.  I  have  passed  from  the  pulpit  to  a  sick-bed,  and 
found  that  a  still  holier  place.  I  have  drunk  of  a  bitter  cup 
of  domestic  grief,  and  even  now  I  taste  its  dregs,  yet  Christ 
has  made  this  the  occasion  of  imparting  grace  such  as  I  never 
knew  before.  I  have  been  for  years  cut  off  almost  entirely 
from  the  house  of  the  Lord  ;  but,  in  the  mean  time,  my  pri- 
vate chamber — the  lands  of  the  heathen — the  desert — the 
ocean,  have  often,  very  often  been  made  the  gate  of  heaven 
to  my  soul. 


52  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

I  incline  from  my  own  experience,  apart  from  the  revealed 
word,  to  conclude  that  the  circumstances  appointed  by  Prov- 
idence are  always,  and  without  any  qualification,  the  most 
favorable  to  our  piety,  and  also  to  our  happiness,  now  as  well 
as  eternally.  Affluence  and  poverty,  health  and  sickness, 
good  fortune  and  misfortune,  public  or  private  stations,  each 
is  best  for  the  Christian  to  whom  it  is  appointed — not  in  a 
roundabout  theological  sense,  but  really  and  practically  best. 
One  has,  therefore,  as  much  reason  for  gratitude — for  special 
gratitude — as  another.  God  does  infinitely  well  by  each — 
even  God  could  do  no  better.  I  rejoice  in  this  view.  I  ex- 
ult in  a  hearty  belief  of  it. 

I  began  with  the  intention  of  devoting  this  sheet  to  the 
subject  of  your  last  letter,  but  a  train  of  thought,  or,  rather, 
of  feeling,  arose,  which  I  did  not  invite,  and  supplanted  the 
important  topic  for  this  time.  I  feel  the  deepest  interest  in 
that  theme,  and  have  the  most  lively  sense  of  its  importance. 
I  trust  that  I  am  trying  to  press  forward  toward  the  mark. 
I  am  sure  God  wills  us  to  be  holy  in  this  life.  The  whole 
Gospel  plan  supposes  it.  Indeed,  nobody  denies  this — it  is 
only  said  the  thing,  if  attainable,  is  never  attained.  I  love 
my  Calvinistic  brethren  as  I  do  my  own  soul,  yet  I  can  but 
regard  this  as  the  natural  bitter  fruit  of  a  fundamental  error. 
God  wills  and  enjoins  what  in  practice  and  in  fact  is  impos- 
sible !  He  imposes  a  duty  which  even  his  grace  does  not  en- 
able us  to  do.  I  wish  that  this  one  error  was  removed  from 
the  creed  of  this  noble  race  of  Christians. 

I  expect  to  remove  to  West  Poultney  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. I  must  go  to  the  plow  in  quest  of  more  physical 
strength.  I  am,  for  me,  quite  well.  I  mean  to  come  to  the 
Conference  in  May,  when  I  hope  to  see  you. 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.  53 


LXXI.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON. 

West  Poultney,  March  26th,  1842- 

I  take  an  early  opportunity  to  answer  your  favor  of  Feb- 
ruary 21st.  You  will  perceive  my  change  of  residence.  I 
came  here  last  Tuesday,  and  my  brother,  with  whom  I  live, 
two  days  later.  After  a  fair  showing  of  spring,  we  are  again 
in  the  snow,  though  the  weather  is  warm.  I  am  to  devote 
a  portion  of  my  time — as  much  of  it  as  I  can — to  work  in  the 
field.  It  may  be  I  shall  gain  some  strength  by  it,  which  is 
what  I  seek  only  that  I  may  employ  it  in  a  better  way.  It 
is  my  opinion,  however,  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  much, 
if  any  thing,  more  that  will  even  have  a  semblance  of  use- 
fulness— I  say  a  semblance,  because  I  often  think  that  my 
former  efforts  amounted  to  little  more.  Still,  there  was  this 
reality  in  them  that  they  were  made  in  all  sincerity,  and,  I 
trust,  with  a  single  eye  to  the  will  of  God.  This  is  my  chief 
consolation  in  looking  to  the  past.  I  can  not  see  that  I  have 
done  much  good,  but  I  have  tried ;  and  I  have  certainly 
aimed  at  doing  right  upon  right  principles.  This  conviction 
of  past  unfruitfulness  tends  to  reconcile  me  to  my  lot,  present 
and  prospective.  It  is  probably  better  that  my  attention 
should  be  chiefly  directed  to  the  workings  of  my  own  heart, 
and  to  the  cultivation  of  personal  piety.  To  this  high  duty  I 
seem  to  be  left ;  and  I  do  not  undervalue  the  opportunities 
afforded  by  retirement,  by  broken  health,  and  freedom  from 
the  peculiar  temptations  to  which  a  more  public  and  active 
way  of  life  might  expose — certainly  would  expose  a  man  of 
my  unfortunate  tendency  to  self-confidence  and  ambition.  I 
habituate  myself  to  contemplate  my  situation  in  this  light ; 
and  I  think  I  can  discern  the  goodness  of  God  in  assigning 
my  humble  lot.  I  rejoice  that  you  and  others  are  allowed 
to  honor  your  Master  in  higher  and  nobler  fields.  I  trust  I 
shall  be  thankful  and  content  with  the  good  opportunity  I 
enjoy  of  saving  my  soul  alive.  I  am  much  drawn  out  of 


54  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

late  after  more  devotedness  to  God.  I  am  unusually  sensi- 
ble of  my  want  of  a  higher  and  steadier  faith.  I  know  not, 
my  dear  brother,  how  you  could  possibly  do  me  a  greater 
favor  than  by  praying  for  me  often — that  I  may  be  humble 
and  holy. 

I  have  been  led  to  be  very  jealous  of  myself  with  regard 
to  exciting  topics  and  engagements  which  do  not  come  within 
the  unquestionable  scope  of  practical,  saving  Christianity. 
It  is  so  great  a  work  to  save  the  soul,  and  to  do  our  duty  in 
trying,  in  our  measure,  to  save  others,  that  there  seems  to  be 
little  time  to  attend  to  much  else.  I  have  been  occasionally 
employed  in  revising  a  part  of  my  journal  in  the  East  with 
some  reference  to  publication.  I  still  work  at  it ;  but  I  could, 
indeed,  wish  that  rny  time  were  devoted  to  some  pursuit  more 
strictly  and  directly  religious.  This  has  afforded  me  satis- 
faction as  an  occupation;  but  I  can  not  make  a  religious 
work  of  it,  and  I  constantly  experience  regrets  and  misgiv- 
ings. I  would  burn  every  word  if  I  did  not  believe  myself 
trying  to  honor  God  in  this  attempt ;  but  I  fear  there  is  too 
much  indirectness  in  it.  There  is  certainly  too  much  in  the 
pursuit  to  awaken  a  desire  for  reputation,  though  I  am  per- 
fectly confident  that  I  can  win  no  fame  by  any  thing  I  can 
do  in  this  way.  I  traveled  without  preparation,  and  must 
publish,  if  at  all,  with  slight  prospects  of  nattering  success. 
Still,  it  sometimes  strikes  me  as,  perhaps,  a  duty  to  throw  out 
something  which  may  be  read  by  a  good  many  of  our  young 
people,  and  which  may  keep  out,  as  far  as  it  goes,  novels 
and  other  trash.  I  can  be  sure  of  giving  truth  in  a  plain 
way,  which  of  itself  may  not  be  lost  labor. 

I  wander,  however,  or  rather  I  rest  upon  a  particular  in- 
stance, when  I  was  aiming  to  be  general.  I  am  jealous,  I 
repeat,  of  all  engagements  that  do  not  come  fairly,  at  least, 
if  not  directly,  within  the  embrace  of  the  Gospel.  I  am, 
therefore,  growing  more  cautious  of  saying  what  I  think  on 
other  subjects  —  on  politics,  abolitionism,  ultra-temperance, 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.  55 

&c.  They  are  all  exciting  subjects,  in  which  Christians  en- 
gage to  the  injury  of  brotherly  love  and  charity.  I  am  not 
conscious  of  being  warm  or  excitable  on  any  of  these  grounds, 
and  yet,  perhaps,  I  am  ;  and  if  not,  I  may  move  the  feelings 
of  others. 

LXXII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  . 

West  Poultney,  March  27th,  1842. 

I  thank  you  for  your  favor  of  the  21st  instant,  which  I  re- 
ceived yesterday.  The  very  important  subject  to  which  it 
is  mostly  devoted  has  often  engaged  my  attention,  and,  I  may 
say,  has  often  filled  me  with  anxiety.  I  believe  that  our  sys- 
tem has  not  worked  well  in  large  cities,  and  that,  relatively, 
we  are  losing  strength  in  these  "  great  centres  of  influence." 
To  what  peculiarity  of  doctrine  or  economy  these  effects 
should  be  attributed  is  not,  perhaps,  quite  obvious.  I  think 
you  are  right  in  ascribing  much  to  the  deficient  education  of 
our  ministry,  and  to  the  principle  of  rotation.  A  more  learn- 
ed and  stable  ministry,  with  equal  piety,  would,  I  incline  to 
think,  greatly  increase  our  influence  in  the  large  towns.  Per- 
haps, too,  the  general  adoption  of  pewed  churches  and  an 
abandonment  of  class-meetings,  especially  the  former,  would 
be  requisite  to  put  us  on  a  par  with  others — changes  alto- 
gether which  would  leave  us  little  or  nothing  distinctive  but 
the  name,  since  others  have  adopted  our  doctrines  already, 
and  we  should,  by  the  means  proposed,  virtually  adopt  their 
economy.  The  congregation  rules  in  fact,  when  the  pastoral 
relation,  in  its  commencement  and  continuance,  depends  upon 
its  will.  In  all  of  this  there  is  not  evil  per  se.  One  form 
is  as  good  as  another,  if  it  produce  as  much  good  in  the  sphere 
of  its  operation,  and  upon  the  whole.  This  is  with  me  the 
only  question,  when  changes,  not  touching  what  is  settled  by 
Divine  authority,  are  proposed  in  our  system.  Is  our  itiner- 
ant system  better  than  any  other  yet  tried  for  spreading  the 
Gospel  and  saving  souls  ?  Better,  I  mean,  in  the  general, 


56  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

and  upon  the  largest  scale.  I  believe  it  is.  Experience  has 
settled  that  question.  Methodism  has  been  fairly  at  work 
in  the  United  States  only  since  the  close  of  the  war  for  in- 
dependence— say  sixty  years.  It  began  with  nothing — with- 
out wealth,  or  learning,  or  colleges,  or  churches,  or  ministers, 
and  with  the  whole  world,  in  and  out  of  the  Church,  its  en- 
emies. In  a  period  commonly  assigned  to  the  career  of  two 
generations  of  men,  it  has  outstripped  all  the  established  de- 
nominations— has  diffused  piety  throughout  our  vast  wilds, 
and  done  much  to  purify  all  the  other  Churches.  We  must 
conclude,  also,  that  it  has  saved  more  souls  now  in  heaven 
than  any  other  Church  during  the  same  period.  And  it  is 
now  as  vigorous,  as  diffusive,  as  pure,  as  prosperous — I  mean, 
upon  the  whole — as  ever,  and  increasingly  intelligent  and  re- 
spectable. I  think  that  I  here  claim  nothing  which  can  rea- 
sonably be  denied  to  us,  and  I  have  claimed  nearly  every 
thing  that  belongs  to  the  Gospel. 

It  is  a  small  matter,  in  this  broad  view  of  the  subject,  that 
we  are  somewhat  deficient  in  the  graceful  or  the  convenient. 
The  people  we  have  raised  up  are  as  pious  as  those  of  other 
sects,  and  they  are  much  more  numerous.  The  main  objects 
of  Christ's  death  are  thus  completely  satisfied.  He  came  to 
seek  and  save  the  lost,  which  has  been  and  is  our  work.  The 
next  important  question  with  me  is,  to  what  is  this  unparal- 
leled success  owing  ?  To  our  doctrines  ?  In  some  measure, 
I  think,  but  not  chiefly.  Others  now  preach  them  substantial- 
ly, and  have  done  so  for  twenty  years,  and  yet  we  maintain 
all  our  relative  superiority.  It  is  not  to  our  learning,  nor,  I 
think,  to  the  superior  zeal  of  our  ministers,  so  much  as  to  oth- 
er causes.  I  ascribe  our  great  success,  under  God's  blessing, 
to  our  itinerant  system.  There  is  no  other  important  feature 
in  our  system  which  is  peculiar  to  it.  This  principle  of  ro- 
tation has  carried  the  Gospel  every  where — has,  by  God's 
blessing,  made  the  weak  strong — has  been  instead  of  learn- 
ing to  our  untrained  young  men— has  been  the  bond  of  a 


CORRESPONDENCE    IN     1842.  57 

comprehensive  unity  which  gives  strength  to  the  feeble,  and 
secures  a  favorable  reception  and  ministerial  influence  to 
those  who  would  otherwise  be  nothing.  With  the  itineracy, 
our  ministry  has  outstripped  all  others.  They  have  saved 
more  souls,  which  is  their  proper  work. 

Now  I  apply  all  these  considerations  to  every  proposal 
that  impairs  the  itinerant  principle.  I  fear  to  modify  it  so 
as  to  suit  towns.  I  do  not  deny  that  partial  good  would  be 
secured  ;  but  I  fear  general  evil.  Such  changes  would  de- 
stroy the  unity  and  symmetry  of  the  system.  They  would 
probably  render  it  impracticable.  Men  would  not  make  the 
sacrifices  they  now  do,  if  the  system  was  made  to  operate 
partially.  Perhaps  Methodism  was  designed  for  the  world 
— not  the  city  so  much.  Better  to  give  up  the  towns  to  oth- 
ers entirely,  than  to  hazard  changes  that  would  diminish  its 
efficiency  to  save  souls.  Strong,  rich,  intelligent  congrega- 
tions are  to  be  preferred  to  others  as  a  means,  not  as  an  end. 
And,  as  a  means,  I  admit  their  importance  ;  but  if  we  can  be 
strong  in  cities  only  by  impairing  our  means  of  general  use- 
fulness, we  had  better  give  them  up  to  others  who  are  likely 
to  provide  for  them,  and  who  are  now  essentially  what  we 
should  be  with  the  modifications  proposed.  We  ought  to 
have  no  ambition  for  any  thing  but  to  save  as  many  souls  as 
we  can.  This  ought  to  decide  every  question  of  reform,  or 
change,  or  improvement.  This  is  the  will  of  Christ  concern- 
ing us.  I  try  to  form  all  my  opinions  on  church  matters  with 
an  eye  single  to  this  end.  The  Church  that  saves  the  most 
souls,  in  proportion  to  its  means,  is  the  truest  Church,  no  mat- 
ter in  what  else  it  may  be  deficient.  Many  other  things  are 
desirable,  and  even  necessary,  but  they  are  collateral  and  aux- 
iliary, as  they  are  of  very  secondary  worth. 

I  trust  you  will  take  my  views  in  the  kind  spirit  that  dic- 
tated this  frank,  unstudied  expression  of  them.  I  believe  your 
opinions  on  these  practical  questions  are  likely  to  be  import- 
ant— to  do  good  or  evil,  and  I  am  glad  to  communicate  free- 

C  2 


58  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

ly  with  intelligent  and  ingenuous  minds.     May  God  lead  you 
to  adopt  the  soundest  principles,  and  to  effect  the  greatest 

good. 

I  mean  to  come  down  to  the  Conference,  when  it  will  give 
me  great  pleasure  to  see  you. 

LXXIII.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 
(On  the  death  of  his  father). 

West  Poultney,  June  25th,  1842. 

I  received  your  letter  four  days  since,  containing  the  pain- 
ful intelligence  of  your  excellent  father's  death.  After  all 
that  I  had  heard  of  the  unfavorable  state  of  his  health  for 
several  months  past,  I  was  unprepared  for  this  result,  and 
was  taken  by  surprise.  Indeed,  I  had  not  supposed  that  the 
bodily  complaints  of  your  father  were  of  a  character  to  excite 
much  apprehension  could  his  mind  be  restored  to  tranquillity, 
and  for  this  favorable  change  I  continued  to  hope  and  pray. 
God  has  wisely  and  mercifully  ordered  the  event  otherwise, 
and  has  seen  fit  to  take  his  afflicted  servant  to  a  better  rest. 
We  should  have  wished  for  his  restoration  to  that  happy, 
calm,  religious  frame  which  has  characterized  the  man  and 
his  piety  for  so  long  a  period,  and  could  have  resigned  him 
the  more  willingly  after  such  a  change  ;  but  God  saw  how 
unimportant  it  was  to  him,  who  was  chiefly  interested  to 
wait  for  any  such  partial  alleviation,  and  took  him  at  once 
out  of  his  painful,  trying  condition,  into  one  of  heavenly  vision 
and  complete  bliss.  It  was  a  gracious  dispensation  to  the 
sufferer,  and  we  ought  to  seek  for  resignation — cheerful,  per- 
fect resignation — to  the  Divine  will. 

Your  dear,  honored  father  has  been  to  me  a  faithful,  long- 
tried  friend.  Frequently,  during  the  period  of  our  acquaint- 
ance, have  I  had  occasion  to  regard  his  friendship  one  of  the 
most  valuable  of  the  earthly  blessings  accorded  to  me  by  Di- 
vine goodness.  The  unreserved  confidence  which  I  have  al- 
ways been  enabled  to  repose  in  his  discretion,  as  well  as  in 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN    1842.  59 

his  perfect  uprightness,  and  deep,  enlightened  piety,  has  made 
me  quite  easy  with  regard  to  my  worldly  interests  during  a 
series  of  years  of  utter  prostration  and  helplessness,  in  which 
care  and  anxiety  would  have  proved  highly  injurious — prob- 
ably  fatal  to  me.  He  has  well  understood  my  situation,  and 
in  all  his  letters  to  me  and  my  dear  departed  wife,  has  taken 
the  most  generous  pains  to  guard  my  mind  against  anxiety, 
and  to  lighten  my  sense  of  obligation.  And  now  that  God 
has  exalted  my  dear,  honored  friend  to  his  own  right  hand, 
it  becomes  me  to  submit  without  complaint  to  a  bereavement 
which  I  am  prepared  to  feel  only  less  than  his  own  family 
circle.  I  weep  with  you  all.  I  pray  that  you  may  be  sup- 
ported by  the  divine  consolations  of  the  Gospel.  I  am  thank- 
ful that  your  excellent  mother  knows  so  well  the  worth  of 
this  blessed  resource,  and  how  to  avail  herself  of  it.  May 
the  mighty  God  of  Jacob — the  widow's  God — support  her  in 
this  her  hour  of  need.  I  sympathize  with  her — with  the  sol- 
itary, sad  hours  that  are  before  her — more  even  than  with  the 
bereaved  children.  Yet  Christ  will  give  her  light — the  day- 
star  from  on  high  will  shine  upon  her,  and  she  shall  be  com- 
forted. 

What,  my  dear  friend — for  such  my  love  to  your  father,  as 
well  as  all  I  have  known  of  you,  strongly  induce  me  to  regard 
you — what  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  Pardon  me  for  obeying  the 
strong  impulse  of  my  feelings.  I  am  under  the  impression 
that  you  have  hitherto  neglected  to  take  God  for  your  portion. 
I  could  not  but  rejoice  at  the  tone  of  your  letter,  and  even 
hope  that  you  were  no  stranger  to  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  I 
want  to  urge  you  to  make  this  affliction  the  occasion  of  tak- 
ing the  decisive  step,  and  of  making  a  full,  avowed  consecra- 
tion of  your  life  to  the  Savior.  This  is  certainly  God's  will 
concerning  you  ;  it  may  be  one  part  of  his  design  in  visiting 
your  large  family  with  mourning.  May  you  hear  and  obey 
his  voice. 


60  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

The  following  touching  account  of  the  serene  and 
joyful  departure  of  Mrs.  Andrew  is  taken  from  a  long 
and  deeply  interesting  letter,  written  by  Bishop  An- 
drew to  Dr.  Olin : 

LXXIV. 

Oxford,  April  26th,  1842. 

On  each  day  we  thought  her  dying,  and  as  often  the  work 
of  blessing  us  and  encouraging  us  was  repeated.  On  one  of 
these  occasions,  when  panting  for  breath,  she  had,  for  some 
moments,  scarcely  been  able  to  articulate.  We  had  just  risen 
from  our  knees,  after  commending  her  to  God,  she  said,  "  I 
want  to  tell  you  how  I  feel.  I  feel  like  a  little  child  that  is 
just  beginning  to  walk,  and  it  is  passing  along  a  road  that 
is  muddy  and  rocky,  but  the  father  has  it  by  the  hand  and 
is  leading  it.  So  it  is  with  me  ;  I  am  passing  through  the 
dark  valley,  and  the  way  is  rough,  and  my  feet  are  bruised, 
but  I  know  my  Father  has  me  by  the  hand,  and  though  he 
leads  me  a  step  at  a  time,  yet  he  will  soon  bring  me  safely 
over."  She  seemed  perfectly  lost  in  astonishment  that  God 
should  have  so  abundantly  blessed  such  an  imperfect,  unprof- 
itable, and  unfaithful  creature  as  she  was.  This  was  the 
theme  of  her  exultation — the  power,  fullness,  and  freeness 
of  the  grace  of  God.  "  Much  as  I  have  suffered,"  said  she, 
"  I  would  not  that  there  should  have  been  one  stroke  or  one 
pain  less.  I  am  not  tired  of  the  world — there  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  wish  to  leave  it.  I  have  a  kind  husband  and 
sweet  children,  and  as  kind  friends  as  ever  woman  was  bless- 
ed with  ;  yet  I  long  to  depart  and  be  with  my  Savior.  The 
battle  is  fought  and  the  victory  won,  and  now,  Lord,  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace."  She  charged  me  to  be 
faithful,  and  devote  myself  to  the  great  work  of  publishing  a 
free  and  a  full  salvation  ;  "  and  now,"  said  she,  "  when  you 
all  collect  around  my  body  and  lay  it  in  the  grave,  do  not 
weep,  but  raise  a  song  of  triumph."  ...  It  is  a  re- 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN    1842.  61 

lief  to  my  full  heart  to  speak  of  her  to  one  who  has  known 
her  so  long,  and  who  was  so  greatly  beloved  by  her — for  she 
loved  you  with  a  sister's  affection. 

LXXV.  TO  THE  REV.  BISHOP  ANDREW 
(On  the  death  of  Mrs.  Andrew). 

West  Poultney,  May  15th,  1842. 

I  received  your  letter,  fraught  with  the  heavy  intelligence 
of  sister  Andrew's  death,  on  the  6th  instant.  I  thought  to 
answer  it  at  once,  but  could  not.  My  feelings  were  much 
affected — too  much  to  allow  me  to  write.  I  was  unwilling 
to  add  to  your  pain,  and  I  had  no  word  of  consolation  to  offer. 
The  solaces  of  religion  were  yours  already,  so  far  as  nature 
could  submit  to  receive  them,  and  if  they  had  not  been,  I 
was  not  in  a  state  of  mind  to  suggest  them  to  another,  or  very 
fully  to  receive  them  myself.  It  was  only  two  days  previous 
to  the  anniversary  of  the  darkest  era  of  my  own  life  that  I  re- 
ceived the  intelligence  of  your  sad  bereavement,  and  the  near 
concurrence  filled  me  with  such  a  vivid  sense  of  my  own  ir- 
reparable loss,  that  I  hardly  understood  the  character  of  the 
agitating  emotions  that  swelled  my  heart  almost  to  breaking 
— whether  they  sprung  from  sympathy  or  selfishness.  And 
now  my  eyes  are  darkened  by  tears  which  I  can  not  control. 
My  sense  of  my  own  sorrows  almost  suppresses  all  other  feel- 
ings. Yet  I  wept  for  the  loss  of  dear  sister  Andrew,  for  you 
and  your  half  orphaned  children.  I  wept  and  still  weep,  and 
only  find  relief  from  such  sorrow  as  I  seldom  experience  by 
carrying  your  griefs,  and  theirs,  and  mine  to  the  compassion- 
ate Savior,  who  careth  for  you,  who  is  very  compassionate, 
who  can  be  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  and 
who  assuredly  will,  though  it  may  be  after  days  of  heart- 
rending agony,  appear  for  our  healing  and  comfort — who  will 
cause  a  saving  balm  to  flow  in  upon  the  wounded  spirit,  even 
from  the  dregs  of  the  bitter  cup  of  which  we  are  called  to 
drink.  Do  not  infer,  from  my  strange  way  of  feeling  and 


62  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

writing,  that  I  am  not  very  much  alive  to  your  great  loss. 
I  ought  to  be  able  to  speak  as  a  comforter,  as  I  trust  I  am 
recognized  by  you  in  the  character  of  a  brother  and  friend. 
If  I  had  possessed  more  piety,  more  faith,  I  should  long  since 
have  found  resignation  and  settled  composure  under  God's 
dealings  with  me,  and  have  derived  from  them  some  lessons 
of  submission  and  experience  which  might  be  blessed  to  the 
assuaging  of  the  grief  of  other  sufferers.  It  is  not  so  with 
me  ;  I  can  only  suffer  with  you  ;  I  can  not  offer  comfort.  I 
am  ashamed  to  write  in  this  way  to  you,  overwhelmed  as  I 
know  you  are  with  sorrow,  and  wish  I  had  not  begun,  but  I 
could  not  delay  any  longer,  though  I  feared  to  trust  myself. 
Well,  God  has  taken  our  better  parts  to  himself,  and  left  us 
with  but  a  poor  excuse  for  loving  this  world.  He  has  fairly 
shut  us  up  to  the  one  work  of  serving  Him  and  getting  to 
heaven,  which  is  all  the  dearer  and  more  attractive  for  the 
precious  gems  it  has  snatched  from  us.  The  compassionate 
Savior,  I  think,  will  not  be  displeased  if  we  labor  and  long 
for  that  resting-place  the  more  diligently  and  intensely,  be- 
cause, in  addition  to  the  bliss  of  being  forever  with  the  Lord, 
we  also  covet  a  reunion  with  those  whom  the  impulses  of 
both  nature  and  grace  have  taught  us  to  love  only  less  than 
His  adorable  self. 

I  look  back  on  my  long  acquaintance  with  your  sainted 
wife  with  lively  sensibility,  and  I  shall  not  cease  to  remem- 
ber her  unwearied  kindness  when  I  was  a  member  of  your 
family  nearly  twenty  years  ago.  I  was  in  bad  health,  and 
she  felt  for  me,  and  did  for  me  all  that  an  own  sister  could 
have  done  ;  and  from  that  time  she  has  seemed  to  me  as 
something  more  than  a  common  friend.  On  my  return  from 
abroad — solitary,  heart-broken,  stricken  of  God — one  of  the 
first  messages  of  sympathy  and  greetings  of  welcome  met  me 
in  the  form  of  a  kind  letter  from  dear  sister  Andrew.  I  re- 
member well  how  directly  it  went  to  my  heart,  and  made 
me  feel,  beyond  any  circumstance  that  I  now  recollect,  that 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN     1842.  63 

J  was  again  at  home — that  I  had  friends  still,  though  I  had 
lost  my  all.  The  memory  of  these  things  is  precious  to  me, 
now  that  God  has  taken  her  to  himself;  and  I  will  remem- 
ber the  message  which  she  sent  by  you  in  your  previous  let- 
ter, that,  though  we  should  meet  no  more  on  earth,  we  should 
meet  in  heaven.  Through  the  strength  of  Christ,  I  will  meet 
her  there.  Yes,  my  dear  brother,  you  will  labor  on,  and 
gather  many  stars  for  your  crown,  and  I  shall  wait  in  the 
midst  of  my  infirmities,  doing  nothing,  but  still  looking  for 
the  Lord's  coming,  with  my  lamp  trimmed,  and  in  the  end 
we  shall  all — yours  and  mine,  you  and  I — meet  in  heaven. 
Glory  to  God  for  this  blessed  hope,  this  only  antidote. 

LXXVl.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON. 

West  Poultney,  June  5th,  1842. 

I  reached  home  on  Friday.  I  have  made  some  visits  and 
received  some,  and  read  up  in  part  the  large  accumulation  of 
papers  which  I  found  after  an  absence  of  a  fortnight.  To- 
morrow I  hope  to  be  at  my  work  again,  which  has  really  be- 
come a  great  alleviation  of  my  ennui,  if  not  of  more  serious 
complaints.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  sailing  up  the  Hudson 
with  many  of  the  preachers,  including  brothers  Ostrander, 
Seney,  Goodsell,  J.  C.  Green,  Creagh,  &c.  F.  Garrettson, 
with  his  daughter  and  niece,  came  on  board  at  Rhinebeck — 
going  to  Saratoga.  All  this  was  pleasant,  and  the  recital 
pretty  well  exhausts  my  stock  of  incidents. 

.  I  will  venture  to  suggest  a  good  rule,  by  the 
observance  of  which  you  will  certainly  be  a  gainer.  Do  not 
.let  any  body  preach  for  you  oftener  than  once  in  three 
weeks.  Dr.  Payson  used  to  say  that  he  felt  about  as  grate- 
ful to  a  minister  who  preached  for  him  as  a  hungry  man 
would  toward  him  who  should  eat  up  his  dinner  for  him. 
This  is  excellent,  and  I  used  to  have  somewhat  of  this  feel- 
ing. And  now,  were  it  possible,  I  would  sooner  preach  Christ 
to  men  than  enjoy  any  or  all  other  things.  I  would  gladly 


64  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


suffer  any  degree  of  pain  for  it,  or  endure  any  privation  not 
inconsistent  with  devotion  to  the  work.  Still,  God  wills  oth- 
erwise, and  I  ought  not  even  to  wish,  happy  if  I  may  save 
my  own  soul  through  the  blood  of  the  adorable  Savior,  whom 
it  is  the  glorious  privilege  of  others — yours,  not  mine — to 
proclaim.  Oh  !  may  God  anoint  you  afresh  for  this  blessed 
work,  and  may  this  year  be  to  you  the  most  abundant  of 
your  whole  life,  in  successes,  in  consolations,  and  in  preaching. 

LXXVII.  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  LANDON. 

West  Poultney,  July  31st,  1842. 
.  You  and  I  must  not  differ  about  this  thread- 
bare, superannuated  question.  I  would  join  your  ranks  to- 
morrow if  I  thought  it  right.  How  could  I  refuse,  seeing  I 
am  soon  to  be  judged  ?  I  do  most  conscientiously  believe, 
however,  that  no  good  is  likely  to  come  of  your  movement — 
that  none  has  come  of  it,  and  that  it  has  done  much  evil.  I 
do  not  say  this  for  controversy,  but  to  define  my  position.  I 
love  you  and  other  Abolitionists ;  but  I  think  I  understand 
this  question  as  well  as  they.  I  think  their  course — the 
course  of  many  of  them — has  been  with  us  anti-Methodistical. 
To-morrow,  if  able,  I  am  to  set  out  for  Saratoga,  to  rest  a 
while,  and  then  to  come  on  to  New  York  by  the  15th  of  Au- 
gust. Where  can  I  find  cool  quarters  as  well  as  comfort- 
able ?  I  design  to  be  some  time  in  New  York  to  attend  to 
the  publication  of  my  Travels.  I  am  just  now  at  the  end 
of  the  task  of  composition — have  got  over  the  ground  for  the 
first  time,  though  the  revision  will  call  for  toil.  I  thank  God 
for  bringing  me  to  this  point,  when,  should  I  be  able  to  work- 
no  more,  another  hand  might  finish  the  task.  I  began  the 
work,  I  think,  November  26th,  1841.  During  above  eight 
months,  with  the  exception  of  coming  to  Conference,  one  week 
of  sickness,  and  the  interruption  of  removing  from  Salisbury, 
I  have  toiled  from  three  to  six  hours  daily.  I  mention  it  with 
unfeigned  gratitude  to  God  for  his  aid.  It  has  been  uncx- 


CORRESPONDENCE    IN    1842.  65 

pected  and  abundant.  I  never  felt  my  obligation  to  God 
more  deeply  in  any  event  or  act  of  my  life,  and  I  may  say  to 
my  friend  that  I  have  never  labored  at  any  pursuit  with  a 
steadier  reliance  on  the  Holy  Spirit,  with  more  dedication  of 
motive  and  effort  to  God,  to  the  exclusion,  as  far  as  by  grace 
I  was  able,  of  selfish,  ambitious  motives.  I  have  got  through, 
hastily  and  poorly,  the  book — which  will  certainly  do  me  no 
honor,  and  will  do  no  good,  without  God's  blessing.  I  am  try- 
ing to  commit  this  and  all  things  to  Him,  and  to  "be  careful 
for  nothing."  I  succeed,  at  least  in  some  measure,  better  than 
formerly,  and  I  am  therefore  happier  than  I  ever  was  before. 
I  find  God  present  with  me  in  a  new  sense.  I  rest  in  God. 
I  am  satisfied  with  Him.  His  will  is  mine.  Mine  is  swal- 
lowed up  in  His.  Christ  is  my  all  and  in  all.  Bless  His 
holy  name.  Do  I  speak  foolishly  ?  I  speak  to  a  brother  be- 
loved of  what  fills  my  heart.  I  do  not  feel  boastful,  God  is 
my  judge,  but  I  am  constrained  to  confess  His  goodness  to 
me 

LXXVIII.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 

Saratoga  Springs,  August  4th,  1842. 

I  received  your  letter  five  days  since  in  West  Poultney.  In 
the  multiplicity  of  engagements  with  which  I  was  occupied, 
preparatory  to  making  a  journey,  I  omitted  to  answer  it  till 
my  arrival  here. 

I  felt  a  lively  concern  at  your  accident  and  providential 
escape.  It  was  so  like  what  befell  your  beloved  father,  and 
the  consequences  in  his  case  were  so  lamentable,  that  I  am 
the  more  anxious  to  hear  that  you  are  perfectly  recovered 
from  all  the  effects  of  your  fall.  In  the  mean  time,  I  am  tru- 
ly thankful  that  you  escaped  without  even  more  serious  in- 
jury, and  that  you  are  so  soon  even  partially  restored.  May 
you  very  soon  be  quite  reinstated  in  your  usual  good  health. 
I  trust  that  you  see  and  gratefully  acknowledge  the  merci- 
ful hand  of  God  in  this  deliverance,  as  well  as  in  the  deep 
afflictions  which  have  so  recently  visited  you. 


66  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

I  do  not  think  that  I  mentioned  to  you  in.  my  last,  though 
the  occasion  was  so  suited  to  it,  a  circumstance  which  recent 
events  have  made  peculiarly  affecting  to  me.  In  the  last 
interview  which  I  had  with  my  excellent  friend,  your  ever 
honored  father,  you  became  the  special  subject  of  our  conver- 
sation, as  you  had  frequently  been  before.  I  always  made 
special  inquiries  in  reference  to  you  having  been  led  to  feel  a 
lively  interest  in  your  welfare — your  religious  welfare  in  par- 
ticular— not  only  from  my  intimate  relations  with  your  father, 
but  from  your  having  frequently  been  the  subject  of  conver- 
sation between  me  and  my  lamented  friend,  Dr.  Fisk.  Your 
father  said  to  me,  with  emotion,  that  you  fulfilled  all  his 
wishes  as  far  as  your  general  deportment  and  character  were 
concerned,  but  that  he  had  many  fears  with  regard  to  your 
spiritual  prospects.  You  were  all  veneration  for  the  Gospel, 
but  appeared  to  be  without  any  personal  feeling  or  concern 
upon  the  subject.  He  expressed  a  fear  lest  you  were  satisfying 
yourself  with  the  correctness  and  amiability  of  your  general 
deportment.  I  think  it  probable  that  your  pious  and  affec- 
tionate parent  often  expressed  these  sentiments  to  you.  Still, 
I  felt  it  my  duty  to  repeat  them,  now  that  they  have  acquired 
the  character  and  claim  of  a  message  from  the  dead.  May 
God  give  to  this,  to  me,  affecting  incident  all  the  effect  to 
which,  from  its  connection  with  him  we  loved,  it  is  well  en- 
titled. May  he  lead  you  speedily  to  a  firm  and  blessed  faith 
in  Christ. 

LXXIX.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON. 

Saratoga  Springs,  August  12th,  1842. 

....  It  was  my  intention  to  come  to  New  York  this 
week,  but  the  weather  continues  so  warm,  and  the  water 
here  so  perceptibly  does  me  good,  that  I  incline  to  remain  a 
little  longer.  My  health  is,  I  think,  rather  better  than  it  was 
at  the  Conference,  and  I  have  worked  uninterruptedly  since 
till  I  left  home. 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN    1842.  67 

You  will  have  heard  before  this  time,  and  I  doubt  not  with 
surprise,  that  I  have  consented  to  go  to  the  Wesleyan  Uni- 
versity. My  reason  for  attempting  to  do  what  I  am  obvious- 
ly unfit  for,  and  what  I  had  quite  resolved  not  to  undertake, 
was  simply  this  :  I  thought  it  my  duty,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, to  go  and  try.  This  reason  will,  I  am  sure,  be  good 
in  your  eyes,  though  many  will  no  doubt  think  that  I  am 
mistaken  in  my  course.  Let  what  will  be  the  result,  I  can 
never  repent  acting  under  such  convictions  ;  and  weak  and 
poorly  fitted  as  I  am  to  assume  high  responsibilities,  I  must 
fear  nothing.  You  know  my  motto — "  Be  careful  for  noth- 
ing." I  try  to  do  all  things  "in  simplicity  and  godly  sin- 
cerity," and  so  doing,  I  may  trust  in  God  even  "  out  of  weak- 
ness to  ordain  strength."  How  blessed  are  we  in  being  per- 
mitted and  enabled  to  cast  all  our  burdens  on  the  Lord  !  I 
love  and  admire  the  Gospel  more  and  more,  I  may  almost 
say  daily.  My  experience  of  its  sufficiency  and  adaptations 
was  certainly  never  half  so  satisfactory  as  it  has  latterly 
been.  I  want  to  acknowledge  and  honor  God  in  all  my 
ways. 

LXXX.  TO  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  M.  WIGHTMAN. 

Saratoga  Springs,  August  16th,  1842. 

I  have  often  heard  from  you  through  the  medium  of  the 
weekly  manifesto  which  you  address  to  thousands.  These 
frequent  allusions  to  yourself,  and  to  a  multitude  of  Southern 
interests  and  men,  render  your  Advocate  invaluable  to  me, 
independently  of  its  literary  and  religious  claims,  which  I  am 
accustomed  to  rank  very  high.  It  is  possible,  however,  that 
this  cause  betrays  me  into  a  measure  of  negligence  in  writ- 
ing to  you  and  others,  though  I  am  rather  inclined  to  offer 
as  my  apology  the  constant  employment  of  my  time  in  pur- 
suits which  I  do  not  feel  quite  at  liberty  to  abandon,  and  to 
which  I  have  thought  it  necessary  to  devote  my  entire  atten- 
tion as  the  only  probable  means  of  arriving  at  any  useful  re- 


68  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

suits.  I  may  say  that  my  whole  time  since  November  has 
been  given  to  preparing  my  Travels  for  publication,  though, 
upon  an  average,  I  have  only  been  able  to  work  four  or  five 
hours  a  day.  This  has  been  to  me  a  great  and  unexpected 
boon.  It  is  far  better  than  I  had  ventured  even  to  hope.  It 
has  enabled  me  to  go  over  the  ground  which  I  wished  to  oc- 
cupy with  a  volume  or  two.  I  have  yet  a  good  deal  to  do 
by  way  of  correction,  but  have  got  to  a  point  at  which,  should 
I  sink,  you  or  some  other  friend  might  complete  my  task.  I 
have  made  haste  in  view  of  probable  interruptions  from  ill 
health.  I  was  afraid  to  spend  time  to  elaborate — to  finish. 
It  will  do  me  no  credit  as  a  literary  performance  ;  but  I  have 
hoped  and  "  prayed  without  ceasing"  that  it  may  prove  use- 
ful to  our  young  people  in  leading  them  to  more  knowledge 
of  the  Bible  and  more  respect  for  it.  I  still  think  that  a 
plain,  true  account,  such  as  I  give  of  the  East,  may  do  good 
in  this  way.  This  has  been  my  highest — I  think  my  only 
aim,  and  I  give  thanks  to  God  who  has  so  unexpectedly  sup- 
ported me  in  this  labor.  I  expect  the  printers  to  begin  as 
early  as  next  month.  I  am  now  doing  nothing,  having  ur- 
gent occasion  for  respite  and  rest. 

You  will  have  heard  that  I  have  been  re-elected  to  the 
Wesleyan  University,  and  will,  no  doubt,  wonder  at  my  im- 
prudence in  consenting  to  accept  the  office.  I  am  quite  unfit 
for  it,  and  yet  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  try.  The  circum- 
stances of  the  university  are  peculiar,  and  the  call  for  me 
from  all  quarters  has  been  singularly  earnest  and  unanimous. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  I  am  deeply  conscious  of  not  deserving 
any  measure  of  the  unfortunate  reputation  which  such  a  case 
implies  that  I  am  ready  to  ascribe  it  to  Divine  Providence, 
and  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  neglect  it.  I  feel  that  I  hazard 
every  thing  by  engaging  in  a  work  for  which  I  am  so  poorly 
fitted ;  still,  I  am  obliged  to  conclude  that  popularity  and 
health,  if  they  do  not  prove  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  be  use- 
ful, are  not  worth  taking  care  of ;  and  after  trying 


CORRESPONDENCE     IN    1842.  69 

ing,  I  think  I  shall  be  content  with  the  retirement  and  in- 
creased insignificance  that  must,  of  course,  be  the  result.  I 
try  to  desire  no  honor  but  that  which  God  gives,  and  to  be 
careless  of  any  reputation  which  will  not  enhance  my  useful- 
ness. I  was  not  consulted  about  the  appointment.  I  felt  it 
to  be  my  duty  to  accept  it,  and  am  about  to  proceed  to  my 
work  in  the  spirit  of  faith  and  humble  resignation.  Will  you 
pray  for  me  ] 

LXXXI.  TO  J.  O.  WALKER,  ESQ. 

Saratoga  Springs,  August  19th,  1842. 

Among  the  consequences  of  my  protracted  ill  health,  upon 
which  I  have  been  compelled  to  look  with  much  regret,  is 
my  inability  to  visit  you  during  my  stay  in  Vermont.  In  the 
order  of  Divine  Providence,  I  have  been  unexpectedly  called 
to  bid  adieu  to  my  native  state  for  the  present,  or,  more  prop- 
erly, to  forego  the  gratification  of  returning  to  bid  it  adieu ;  for, 
when  I  left  home  on  the  first  instant,  I  fully  expected  to  re- 
turn after  a  few  weeks.  It  is  since  my  arrival  here  that  I 
have  been  reappointed  to  Middletown,  under  circumstances 
that  seem  to  render  it  imperative  upon  me  to  accept  the 
presidency,  and  try  to  fulfill  its  duties.  I  am  still  in  feeble, 
though  improved  health.  Every  thing  has  been  done  to  re- 
lieve me  of  labor.  I  shall  have  no  classes,  except  at  my  op- 
tion, and  I  can  have  even,  my  peculiar  duties  done  by  anoth- 
er when  there  is  need.  The  call  was  as  pressing  as  unani- 
mous, and  the  friends  of  the  university  seemed  to  think  its 
fate  hung  on  my  acceptance,  so  peculiar  are  the  circumstan- 
ces with  which  past  events  have  surrounded  it.  I  know  my 
manifold  unfitness  for  the  place.  I  shall  certainly  fail  of  sat- 
isfying the  expectations  which  so  unreasonably  and  unfortu- 
nately rest  upon  me  ;  but  I  dare  not  refuse  to  try. 

I  design  to  go  on  to  Middletown  in  about  three  days.  I 
left  my  brother  ill,  but  he  is  since  better.  He  is  very  pleas- 
antly situated  in  Poultney,  and  I  think  there  is  no  man  in 


70  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

the  world  whom  he  would  more  gladly  see  at  his  house  than 
yourself — a  sentiment  in  which  I,  were  I  there,  should  most 
cordially  join.  Indeed,  every  member  of  my  father's  family, 
scattered,  as  it  now  is,  far  and  wide,  cherish  toward  you  a 
feeling  of  respect  and  affection,  second  only  to  that  which  they 
exercise  toward  the  memory  of  our  honored  father,  and  much 
akin  to  it.  I  know  not  of  another  man  of  whom  I  can  say 
that  he  was  my  father's  bosom  friend  and  confidant  from  ear- 
ly youth  to  old  age,  and  mine  from  boyhood  to  the  present 
hour — a  period  of  thirty  years.  It  is  one  of  my  most  fervent 
wishes  that  your  old  age  may  be  comfortable  and  happy, 
blessed  with  the  love  and  kind  attentions  of  your  children, 
and  cheered  by  the  rich  consolations,  and  supports,  and  hopes 
of  the  Gospel.  These,  after  all,  are  the  true  foundation.  I 
can  truly  say  for  myself  that  Christ  is  more  and  more  my 
rejoicing.  For  all  the  changes  and  deep  afflictions  through 
which  I  have  been  called  to  pass  since  I  last  saw  you,  I  have 
found  His  grace  to  be  sufficient.  I  am  always  happy,  though 
the  loss  of  my  dear,  incomparable  wife  has  made  me  a  soli- 
tary man,  and  taken  from  earthly  things  their  power  to  en- 
gage and  please. 

LXXXII.  TO  MR.  — . 

Middletown,  September  17th,  1842. 

In  your  letter,  received  two  days  since,  you  speak  of  some 
tJteoretical  difficulties  which  hinder  you  in  your  attempts  to 
become  an  experimental  and  spiritual  Christian,  and  you  re- 
quest me  to  direct  you  to  some  book  or  books  which  are  best 
adapted  to  remove  them.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  know  of 
no  books  upon  the  subject  which  I  could  recommend  as  like- 
ly to  be  particularly  useful  to  you.  Your  difficulties  are 
neither  new  nor  peculiar  to  you.  They  are  substantially  met 
by  every  argument  against  a  stern  fatality — a  domineering, 
unalterable  destiny  in  human  affairs,  and  a  great  many  good 
books  might  be  referred  to  as  exhibiting  such  arguments  in  a 


CORRESPONDENCE    IN    1842.  71 

clear  and  satisfactory  light.  Still,  I  can  not  presume  that  you 
are  a  fatalist — and  if  you  were,  I  would  rather  refer  you  to 
your  own  consciousness  of  the  conditions  under  which  you 
live  and  act  than  to  books.  Do  you  not  feel  and  know  that 
you  are  a  voluntary  agent  ?  and  does  not  your  perception  of 
right  and  wrong  in  your  own  actions,  motives,  and  affections, 
cany  with  it  a  conviction  of  moral  freedom  and  accountabil- 
ity ?  If  not,  I  do  not  see  how  arguments  could  possibly  work 
in  your  mind  a  conviction  which  it  lacks  the  power  of  appre- 
ciating. Certainly  you  do  possess  this  consciousness,  and  it 
is  to  this  that  the  Gospel  addresses  its  claims — that  the  Holy 
Spirit  and  the  preacher  make  their  appeals.  If  this  moral 
freedom  and  responsibility,  then,  is  felt  on  your  part,  and  is 
presupposed  in  the  Gospel  demands  on  you,  it  would  seem  to 
me  that  you  have  little  occasion  to  meddle  with  metaphysical 
difficulties,  or  to  solve  dark  passages  of  Scripture,  in  order  to 
open  your  way  to  a  conviction  which  could  not,  by  any  pos- 
sibility, be  made  clearer  than  it  is  already  in  the  light  of 
your  own  consciousness.  This  I  take  to  be  a  fundamental 
principle  in  logic  as  well  as  religion.  This  interior  testimony 
must  be  esteemed  the  very  highest.  You  follow  it  as  your 
best  light  on  ordinary  occasions — you  are  left  to  it  in  relig- 
ious matters.  The  Bible  concurs  with  and  appeals  to  it,  and 
does  it  no  violence.  Does  the  case  of  Pharaoh  seem  to  con- 
flict with  it  ?  You  are  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  he  had  be- 
come reprobate  by  his  sins,  and  was  made  an  example  of, 
or  to  explain  away  the  difficulty  as  you  are  able  ;  but  you 
should  not  bring  an  individual  case  of  this  sort  into  conflict 
with  the  entire  scope  and  analogy.  So  of  the  old  question, 
why  God  allowed  man  to  fall,  or  why  He  creates  men  who 
will  sin  ?  It  may  be  difficult  to  remove  all  objections  from 
this  quarter,  but  not,  I  think,  to  perceive  their  inapplicability. 
I  do  not  know  ichy  I  am  so  made,  but  I  do  know  that  I  am 
so  made.  I  see,  too,  that  if  I  were  not  liable  to  sin,  I  could 
have  no  probation,  and  form  no  moral  character,  to  both  of 


72  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

which  free  agency  is  essential.  The  Gospel  presupposes  this 
liability.  Had  God  permitted  none  to  live  whom  He  foresaw 
would  sin,  there  could  have  been  no  such  race  as  that  of  men; 
no  trial — no  rewards — no  virtue  nor  piety,  the  very  essence 
of  which  is  free  agency. 

I  have  not  room  to  say  more  ;  only  I  will  add,  believe  in 
Christ,  be  a  true  Christian,  and  these  speculative  questions 
will  soon  cease  to  trouble  you — the  love  of  God  will  dissipate 
the  metaphysical  fog,  and  bless  you  with  clear  light.  I  would 
advise  you  to  postpone  these  questions  as  at  least  non-essen- 
tial, and  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  way  to  Je- 
sus is  simple  and  short.  "  Pray  without  ceasing."  "  Strive 
to  enter  in."  OfTer  your  body  and  spirit  to  God  ;  in  a  word, 
believe  with  your  heart  unto  righteousness.  I  pray  that  God 
may  guide  you.  I  pray  for  your  speedy  conversion.  May 
you  not  die  while  you  are  waiting  and  settling  preliminaries  ! 
Dark  as  you  may  think  the  Gospel,  Christ  demands  of  you  to 
embrace  it  without  delay.  Is  He  unreasonable — a  "hard 
master  ?" 


DR.    OLIN    AT   THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    73 


CHAPTER  HI. 

DR.  OLIN  AT  THE  WESLEYAN  UNIVERSITY. 

WHEN,  by  the  lamented  death  of  Dr.  Fisk,  the  pres- 
idency of  the  Wesleyan  University  became  vacant,  all 
eyes  turned  very  soon  to  Dr.  Olin.  Dr.  Fisk  died  on  the 
22d  of  February,  1839.  In  the  month  of  April  follow- 
ing, the  Prudential  Committee  of  the  joint  Board  of 
Trustees  and  Visitors  resolved  on  the  propriety  of  invit- 
ing Dr.  Olin  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  vacant  pres- 
idency. Accordingly,  they  appointed  a  sub-commit- 
tee to  communicate  their  wishes  to  him,  who,  as  is 
stated  elsewhere,  was  at  this  time  traveling  in  Europe 
for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  The  following  letter  suffi- 
ciently shows  the  view  of  the  committee  upon  the  sub- 
ject: 

"  Middletown,  April,  1839. 

"  REV.  AND  VERY  DEAR   SlR, 

"  You  have  probably  been  apprised  of  the  mournful  dispen- 
sation of  Divine  Providence,  which  has  removed  from  us  our 
much-esteemed  President  Fisk.  He  died  on  the  22d  of  Feb- 
ruary, in  cairn  assurance  of  immortality  and  eternal  life.  We 
have  full  confidence  that  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of  care  and 
sorrow,  and  is  forever  at  rest.  The  extinction  of  such  a  bright 
luminary  leaves  a  cloud  of  visible  darkness  upon  our  religious, 
moral,  and  literary  hemisphere.  The  Church  mourns  ;  the 
community  mourns  ;  and,  most  of  all,  the  officers,  members, 
and  friends  of  the  Wesleyan  University  mourn.  And  permit 
us  to  say,  that  after  recovering  the  sad  shock,  and  bowing 

D 


74  LIFE    AND     LETTERS. 

submissively  to  the  will  of  God,  our  eyes  are  turned  to  you. 
There  is  but  one  feeling  and  sentiment  on  this  subject.  The 
Prudential  Committee  has  appointed  the  undersigned  a  com- 
mittee of  correspondence,  to  make  known  their  wishes  to  you, 
and  solicit  your  affectionate  regards  for  the  Wesleyan  Uni- 
versity, and  your  consent  to  become  its  future  president.  We 
are  apprised  of  your  delicate  and  uncertain  state  of  health, 
and  fear  that  you  will  shrink  from  taking  such  responsibility. 
But  every  thing  will  be  done  to  lessen  the  burden  and  care 
that  the  nature  of  things  will  admit,  and  no  part  of  the  in- 
struction will  be  required  only  at  your  option.  We  have  full 
confidence  in  our  present  Board  of  Instruction,  and  believe 
that  they  would  be  to  you  all  that  you  could  wish. 

"  The  Wesleyan  University  has  successfully  passed  its 
struggle  for  existence,  and  acquired  a  degree  of  maturity  and 
solidity,  and  has  so  far  commended  itself  to  the  public  as  to 
secure  its  future  permanency.  It  is  the  laudable  ambition 
of  the  corporation  and  patrons  to  omit  nothing  within  their 
power  that  may  be  necessary  to  place  the  Wesleyan  Univers- 
ity at  the  head  of  the  Methodist  institutions  in  this  country, 
and  to  make  it  worthy  of  the  highest  station  in  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church. 

"  We  make  no  proposition  of  a  pecuniary  nature,  because 
we  know  that  it  will  be  the  least  difficult  matter  to  settle, 
both  with  yourself  and  us.  We  have  an  elegantly  finished 
house  for  the  president  to  occupy,  and  every  attention  will  be 
given  to  make  his  situation  pleasant  and  agreeable.  Should 
it  be  your  intention  to  reside  some  time  longer  in  Europe,  or 
to  extend  your  tour,  we  have  no  wish  to  hurry  your  return, 
if  you  will  but  permit  us  to  use  your  name  and  identify  your 
interest  and  influence  with  the  Wesleyan  University. 

1  "  Please  to  consider  our  circumstances,  and  the  united 
wishes  of  the  corporation,  faculty,  students,  and  community 
at  large,  and  take  your  own  time  to  give  your  answer.  Should 
any  serious  doubt  remain  in  your  mind  respecting  your  health, 


DR.   OLIN    AT    THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    75 


or  from  any  other  cause,  we  desire  you  would  not  be  hasty 
in  giving  a  decisive  answer,  but  correspond  with  us  on  the 
general  interest  of  our  institution,  and  we  shall  be  happy  to 
communicate  to  you  any  intelligence  in  our  power,  or  satisfy 
any  inquiry  you  may  see  fit  to  propose. 

"With  high  esteem,  we  are,  reverend  and  dear  sir,  yours 
most  affectionately, 

"  LABAN  CLARK,        ^      _, 

/      Committee  of 
ELIJAH  HUBBARE,  >  „  ,          ,, 

I  Correspondence. 
VVM.  J.  TRENCH,    ; 

To  this  communication,  so  urgent  in  its  tone,  and  so 
liberal  in  its  offers  and  proposals,  after  mature  deliber- 
ation, Dr.  Olin  returned  a  very  guarded  reply.  After 
mentioning  his  precarious  state  of  health,  he  said  that 
his  greatest  desire  "was  to  be  exclusively  engaged  in  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  as  he  purposed  to  be  should  his 
health  permit.  But,  next  to  this,  his  preference  would 
be  for  a  situation  in  which  he  could  assist-  young  men 
in  preparing  for  this  work  ;  and  as  the  Wesleyan  Uni- 
versity was  exerting  an  important  influence  that  way, 
the  connection  proposed  would  not  be  averse  to  his  feel- 
ings, should  his  health  allow  him  satisfactorily  to  per- 
form the  duties  of  the  station,  of  which,  however,  he 
expressed  strong  doubt. 

We  have  not  the  letter  at  command,  but  the  above 
is  the  substance  of  it.  With  this  encouragement, 
which,  in  truth,  was  not  very  great,  and  without  his 
formal  or  positive  consent,  the  joint  Board,  at  their  next 
meeting,  determined  to  place  his  name  at  the  head  of 
the  Faculty  as  the  president  elect. 

On  Dr.  Olin's  return  to  the  United  States  in  1840, 
it  has  already  been  seen  that  his  health  was  not  such 


76  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

as  to  admit  of  his  entering  on  immediate  duty.  Yet, 
in  the  hope  of  its  improvement,  and  of  possessing  his 
much-desired  services,  the  friends  of  the  institution 
would  not  consent  to  his  resignation.  At  length,  how- 
ever, the  interests  of  the  university  began  to  suffer  from 
the  want  of  a  president.  The  professors,  sufficiently 
burdened  with  their  own  duties,  were  ill  able  to  supply 
the  lack  of  presidential  service ;  while  Professor  Smith, 
the  senior  officer,  on  whom  chiefly  devolved  the  duties 
of  the  vacant  office,  was  sinking  beneath  his  load. 
Learning  these  facts,  fearing  that  his  retention  of  the 
office  was  only  preventing  some  other  being  elected, 
Dr.  Olin  positively  resigned,  and  united  with  others  in 
recommending  the  venerable  and  reverend  Nathan 
Bangs,  D.D.,  in  his  place.  Accordingly,  at  a  special 
meeting  of  the  joint  Board,  called  at  Middletown,  in 
February,  1841,  Dr.  Bangs  was  elected,  and  very  soon 
commenced  his  labors,  gaining  the  affection  of  the  stu- 
dents by  his  general  talents  and  his  paternal  deport- 
ment. 

Dr.  Olin  immediately  felt  his  mind  relieved  of  an  op- 
pressive load  of  responsibility,  and  very  soon  began  to 
regain  his  strength.  He  returned  to  Poultney,  and, 
after  some  months,  began  to  resume  his  intellectual 
labors.  He  was  now  busy  in  preparing  his  travels  for 
the  press.  Meantime,  the  students  in  Middletown,  who 
had  friends  at  the  Troy  Conference  Academy,  located 
at  Poultney,  were  receiving  constant  intelligence  from 
them  of  Dr.  Olin's  progressive  health.  This  created  dis- 
satisfaction with  what  they  now  considered  his  hurried 
resignation,  and  the  too  ready  acceptance  of  it.  This 
feeling  increased  as  the  tidings  became  more  and  more 


DR.    OLIN    AT    THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    77 


favorable.  At  length  it  became  apparent  to  Dr.  Bangs, 
who  throughout  behaved  with  the  utmost  magnanim- 
ity and  Christian  dignity.  He  believed  it  would  be 
wise  in  him  to  retire  from  a  position  from  which  anoth- 
er had  been  prematurely  released,  and  whose  services, 
in  all  probability,  might  now  be  enjoyed.  Accordingly, 
at  a  regular  meeting  of  the  joint  Board  of  Trustees  and 
Visitors  in  1842,  his  resignation  was  presented  and  ac- 
cepted, and  Dr.  Olin  was  re-elected  without  dissent. 

The  following  communication  from  the  Hon.  Seth 
Sprague,  president  of  the  joint  Board,  will  show  the 
feelings  with  which  he  was  elected : 

"  Middletown,  Aug.  2d,  1842. 

"  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  the  pleasure,  ,by  the  direction  of  the 
joint  Board  of  Trustees  and  Visitors,  to  inform  you  that  you 
have  this  day  been  elected  president  of  the  Wesleyan  Uni- 
versity ;  and  I  beg  leave  to  say  that  the  greatest  harmony 
and  unanimity  prevailed  in  the  Board,  and  that  the  Faculty 
most  heartily  concur  in  the  choice.  I  believe  I  can  say  with 
truth  that  the  friends  of  the  university  in  every  quarter  look 
to  you  as  the  only  man  who  can  restore  that  harmony  and 
confidence  which  are  necessary  to  the  successful  operations 
of  the  institution.  I  have  no  doubt  every  thing  will  be  done 
to  make  your  situation  easy  and  agreeable  to  yourself.  So 
anxious  were  the  Board  to  secure  your  acceptance,  that  they 
have  instructed  a  committee  representing  the  Faculty  and  the 
Board  to  bear  this  communication  to  you.  I  doubt  not  they 
will  give  you  such  entire  satisfaction  on  this  subject  that  you 
will  not  hesitate  to  accept  the  trust. 

"  With  great  respect,  I  am  your  humble  servant, 

"  SETH  SPRAGUE,  Juri., 
"  President  of  the  joint  Board  of  Trustees  and 

Visitors  of  the  Wesleyan  University. 
"  S.  Olin,  D.D." 


78  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

In  order  to  fulfill  the  design  to  make  Dr.  Olin's  situ- 
ation as  easy  as  practicable,  as  stated  in  the  above 
communication,  and  also  in  the  letter  of  Rev.  L.  Clark, 
Professor  A.  W.  Smith  was  constituted  vice-president, 
and  was  thus  clothed  with  full  power  to  act  in  case  of 
Dr.  Olin's  indisposition  or  necessary  absences.  Thus 
no  inducement  was  omitted  to  secure  his  acceptance 
of  the  appointment,  while  every  measure  was  taken  to 
make  the  president  elect  feel  easy  in  his  position  in  his 
precarious  state  of  health. 

The  committee  appointed  to  convey  the  message  of 
the  Board  were  Professor  Augustus  W.  Smith,  and  the 
Rev.  Messrs.  Laban  Clark  and  Charles  Adams.  They 
proceeded  immediately  to  Saratoga,  where  Dr.  Olin 
then  was,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  his  acceptance. 
Great  was  the  joy  diffused  among  the  friends  of  the 
institution.  Giadness  beamed  in  every  countenance 
among  the  members  and  friends  of  the  institution, 
while  congratulations  poured  in  as  a  flood.  There  was 
but  one  sentiment  upon  the  subject.  So  intense  was 
this  feeling  among  the  students,  that  there  was  a  strong 
disposition  to  celebrate  his  arrival  in  September  by 
some  public  manifestation;  and  permission  to  do  so 
would  probably  have  been  solicited  of  the  Faculty,  but 
for  the  suggestion  that  it  might  be  construed  into  a 
marked  disrespect  for  Dr.  Bangs. 

We  have  been  thus  full  in  our  statement,  that  the 
reader  may  understand  the  history  of  the  case.  Indeed, 
this  is  required  in  justice  to  both  Dr.  Bangs  and  Dr. 
Olin.  But  we  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  go  more 
minutely  into  the  details,  as  these  would  be  quite  un- 
interesting to  the  generality  of  readers.  In  regard  to 


DR.   OLIN   AT   THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    79 

Dr.  Olin,  however,  we  would  remark,  in  addition,  that 
if  his  frequent  and  protracted  illness,  and  his  absences 
from  his  post,  were  ever  remarked  on,  they  were  all  an- 
ticipated and  provided  for  at  the  time  of  his  election, 
and  every  thing  practicable  was  done  to  put  his  mind 
at  ease  upon  that  subject.  On  no  other  condition  would 
he  have  consented  to  retain  his  office  ;  and,  even  as  it 
was,  he  repeatedly  expressed  his  wish  to  resign,  and 
once  signified  it  to  the  joint  Board,  who,  however,  were 
unwilling  to  release  him  from  his  post. 

The  period  of  Dr.  Olin's  entrance  upon  the  presiden- 
cy of  the  Wesleyan  University  was  a  peculiarly  trying 
one  to  that  institution.  For  this  there  were  several 
reasons.  In  1837,  Dr.  Fisk  returned  from  Europe  with 
the  prestige  of  foreign  travel  added  to  his  former  fame ; 
and  the  consequence  was  an  unusual  rush  of  students 
to  the  college.  Many  of  these  were  not  of  the  religious 
and  orderly  character  of  the  earlier  classes,  and  a  tone 
of  feeling  arose  quite  alien  to  what  had  usually  pre- 
vailed. Heretofore  the  predominant  influence  in  the 
college  had  been  religious  :  now  it  became  the  reverse. 
A  good  deal  of  irregularity  was  introduced,  and  it  re- 
quired a  strong  and  a  steady  hand  to  restore  order. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  finances  were  in  a  deplorable 
state.  There  was  no  endowment  whatever.  The  mon- 
ey raised  on  scholarships  had  been  unavoidably  con- 
sumed in  meeting  current  expenses,  and  thus  there 
was  tuition  pledged  without  any  corresponding  income. 
The  receipts  did  not  meet  the  expenses ;  consequent- 
ly, the  officers  were  all  in  arrears  in  their  salaries,  and 
there  were  not  adequate  means  to  provide,  with  suffi- 
cient liberality,  the  appliances  for  the  high  course  of 
instruction  contemplated. 


80  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

In  regard  to  the  former  evil,  a  gratifying  change  was 
soon  effected.  A  more  stringent  course  of  discipline 
was  adopted  than  had  heretofore  prevailed.  In  many 
instances  this  stronger  administration  would  have  en- 
countered resistance;  but  such  was  the  general  re- 
spect— I  may  say  reverence — for  the  new  president, 
that  all,  or  nearly  all,  readily  yielded,  and  the  few  who 
were  restless  found  but  little  sympathy  with  their  fel- 
lows. The  character  of  the  administration  was  some- 
what different  from  that  of  Dr.  Fisk.  In  both,  strict- 
ness and  kindness  were  blended,  producing  toward  each 
administrator  a  union  of  fear  and  love.  But  while 
kindness  and  love  predominated  in  Dr.  Fisk's  case,  I 
should  say  strictness  and  fear  prevailed  in  the  other. 
But  then  it  should  be  remembered  that  precisely  this 
difference  was  required,  and  so  Providence  seemed  to 
adapt  each  instrument  to  the  work.  While  the  insti- 
tution was  young,  the  students  few,  generally  of  ma- 
ture age,  and  for  the  most  part  of  religious  principles, 
greater  leniency  in  government  was  proper.  Rigidity 
was  not  required.  The  students  came  to  college  to 
learn,  and  governed  themselves  accordingly.  But  now 
that  there  was  a  larger  number,  with  greater  mixture 
of  age  and  character,  the  former  leniency  would  no 
longer  answer.  True,  some  of  the  mature  and  self-re- 
liant complained  somewhat  of  being  placed  under  gov- 
ernment better  suited  to  boys ;  yet  they  admitted  the 
necessity  of  governing  strictly  and  impartially,  and 
yielded  a  ready  acquiescence.  In  fact,  the  better  class 
of  students,  forming  still  a  considerable  proportion  of  the 
whole,  fully  sympathized  with  him,  and  gave  their  ex- 
ample and  influence  on  the  side  of  order  and  strict  ad- 
ministration. 


DR.  OLIN    AT    THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.      81 

Thus  Dr.  Olin  soon  had  the  gratification  of  seeing  his 
efforts  crowned  with  success.  Great  improvement  was 
soon  observable.  This  improvement  consisted  in  a 
more  general  appearance  of  order  and  decorum,  greater 
attention  to  study,  with  increased  regularity  in  keep- 
ing study  hours,  more  uniformity  among  the  officers  in 
visiting  the  rooms,  and  greater  punctuality  among  the 
students  in  attending  the  recitations  and  chapel  exer- 
cises. 

In  accomplishing  these  results,  it  ought  to  be  re- 
marked that  the  president  was  well  sustained  by  the 
Faculty  They  fully  appreciated  the  merits  of  his  ad- 
ministration, and  did  what  they  could  to  forward  his 
aims.  There  was  no  undercurrent  working  against 
him  —  no  counterplot  or  division  of  interest.  The 
sympathies  of  the  Faculty  were  with  him.  In  all  his 
efforts  at  improvement  they  concurred,  and  it  was  by 
this  union  of  effort  that  this  higher  standard  of  schol- 
arship and  this  elevation  of  moral  tone  were  effected. 
Some  irregularities,  of  course,  there  were,  and  all  did 
not,  by  any  means,  make  the  desirable  proficiency. 
Hence  cases  of  discipline  occasionally  arose.  Yet  these 
were  not  very  frequent,  and  in  due  time  the  Universi- 
ty recovered  all,  and  perhaps  more  than  all,  its  former 
character  for  strict  administration,  good  order,  and  prof- 
itable study. 

Our  history  of  Dr.  Olin's  connection  with  the  "Wes- 
leyan  University  would  not  be  complete  did  we  say 
nothing  of  his  influence  in  regard  to  the  finances  of 
the  institution.  On  this  subject  he  had  not  adequately 
informed  himself.  We  remember  hearing  him  say  that, 
had  he  done  so,  he  would  have  been  deterred  from  un- 

D2 


82  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


dertaking  the  charge.  But,  on  discovering  the  almost 
ruinous  condition  of  the  concern,  he  addressed  himself 
vigorously  to  the  remedy,  and  succeeded  as  few  men 
could  have  done.  It  was  chiefly  under  his  influence 
that  some  of  the  wealthier  members  of  the  Methodist 
community  in  the  city  of  New  York  agreed  to  raise 
$10,000  in  the  city,  provided  the  New  York  Conference 
would  engage  to  raise  a  like  sum  in  the  rural  districts, 
for  the  endowment  of  a  professorship,  to  be  named  aft- 
er the  senior  bishop,  now  deceased.  It  was  a  part  of 
the  plan  to  induce  the  other  Conferences  patronizing 
the  university  to  raise  sufficient  to  endow  two  other 
professorships,  making  altogether  the  sum  of  $60,000, 
which,  added  to  the  tuition  fees  and  some  claims  yet 
outstanding,  would,  for  the  present  at  least,  make  the 
pecuniary  condition  quite  easy  and  comfortable.  This 
arrangement  was  finally  effected,  the  Eastern  Confer- 
ences becoming  responsible  for  one  of  the  two  profess- 
orships, and  the  Western  Conferences  assuming  the 
other.  The  arrangement  may  now  be  considered  vir- 
tually completed,  and  the  university  is  in  a  better  pe- 
cuniary condition  than  it  has  ever  before  known. 

In  carrying  these  designs  into  effect,  and  securing 
the  co-operation  of  the  Church,  Dr.  Olin  expended  a 
vast  deal  of  labor.  One  winter  vacation  he  spent  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  in  constant  effort  for  this  object. 
He  preached  once  each  Sabbath,  and  twice  or  thrice 
during  the  week,  presenting  the  necessities  of  the 
Church  and  the  claims  of  the  institution  with  such 
force  as  profoundly  to  move  many  hearts  and  quicken 
them  to  unwonted  liberality.  His  sermons  on  the 
Sabbath  on  these  occasions  were  such,  for  the  most 


DR.   OLIN    AT    THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    83 

part,  as  he  had  bestowed  previous  labor  on ;  but  his 
week-night  discourses  were  generally  studied  in  the 
morning,  and,  with  little  or  no  writing,  delivered  in  the 
evening.  Yet  these  comparatively  unstudied  efforts 
were  full  of  deep  and  original  thought,  pertinent  and 
graphic  illustration,  and  delivered  with  a  depth  of  sens- 
ibility that  melted  many  a  heart  that  never  expected 
to  respond  to  such  appeals.  Many  who  attended  mere- 
ly to  hear  the  celebrated  preacher  became  liberal  con- 
tributors to  the  enterprise. 

While  prosecuting  this  business,  Dr.  Olin  visited  the 
several  Conferences  patronizing  the  institution.  Thus, 
by  his  intercourse  with  the  ministers  privately,  and 
his  addresses  before  them  in  their  assemblies,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  awakening  a  profound  interest  in  behalf  of 
the  cause.  The  addresses  he  delivered  on  these  occa- 
sions were  powerfully  effective.  Education  is  not  a 
subject  to  make  many  men  eloquent,  or  one  by  which 
deep  sensibility  can  often  be  called  forth  in  another. 
But  Dr.  Olin,  while  displaying  the  effects  of  ignorance, 
the  necessity  of  education  to  the  Church,  the  import- 
ance and  duty  of  educating  our  youth,  caused  many  a 
heart  to  melt  and  many  an  eye  to  moisten,  while  scores, 
under  his  stirring  appeals,  felt  like  the  Thebans  un- 
der the  oratory  of  Demosthenes,  when  they  cried  out, 
"  Lead  us  at  once  against  Philip !" 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  no  complete  copy  of  any 
one  of  these  addresses  exists.  We  have,  however,  a 
running  sketch  of  the  one  delivered  before  the  New 
York  Conference,  which  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of 
the  train  of  thought  pursued  on  these  occasions.  The 
reader  will  of  course  not  expect  to  gain  from  it  any 


84  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

adequate  idea  of  the  entire  performance,  much  less  of 
the  manner  and  effect  of  the  delivery. 

"  Will  the  Church  sustain  the  university  ?  I  suppose  there 
is  no  question  between  this  or  any  other — that  it  is  this  or 
none.  It  is  a  question  of  college  or  no  college. 

"  Will  the  Church  have  a  college — take  part  in  the  edu- 
cation of  the  people  of  the  country — educate  its  own  youth  ? 
Then  we  must  keep  up  the  university  :  for  lower  teachers 
can  not  exist  without  higher. 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  providing  for  the  rich.  They  can 
send  their  sons  elsewhere — and  they  have  done  so.  But  they 
can  not  raise  up  a  Christian  college  if  they  would.  None 
but  the  Church  can  create  and  sustain  this,  or  any  other  in- 
stitution of  the  Church.  It  can  not  be  isolated. 

"  The  rich  will,  indeed,  be  the  chief  givers,  but  they  can 
only  be  reached  through  the  Church. 

"  We  have  already  vast  numbers  of  youth  who,  in  the  or- 
der of  God,  should  have  been  pillars  in  the  Church.  God 
would  form  churches  of  all  classes,  rich,  poor,  learned,  and 
unlearned,  each  helping  all,  and  being  helped  by  all.  It  is 
folly  to  act  upon  a  plan  that  thwarts  his  designs — to  repel 
the  children  of  the  rich — to  drag  the  net  full  to  the  shore 
and  throw  back  into  the  sea  a  most  valuable  portion  of  its 
contents.  This  is  a  sin  against  Providence,  duty,  and  com- 
mon sense. 

"  But  our  students  are  not  one  in  ten  sons  of  the  rich,  but 
of  working  fathers  in  moderate  circumstances.  A  large  part 
are  poor,  struggling  to  educate  themselves — bold,  aspiring 
youths,  pressing  on  against  wind  and  tide.  They  mean  to 
do  good — to  teach  or  preach,  or  neither,  as  God  wills.  They 
are  just  such  men  as  the  Church  wants  and  must  have — 
men  who  will  be  educated  somewhere,  and  will  exert  influ- 
ence in  the  world  —  for  us  and  for  Christ,  if  we  will  tram 
them  —  against  both,  probably,  if  we  will  not.  They  are 


DR.    OLJN     AT     THE     WESLEY  AN     UNIVERSITY.    85 


children  of  Methodist  families — ours  by  birth-right,  by  bap- 
tism, and  therefore  a  hundred-fold  more  likely  to  become 
pious  under  our  training  than  under  that  of  any  other. 

"  Every  part  of  the  Church  is  alike  interested  in  this  work 
— the  ministry,  the  press,  the  schools.  Whose  religious  com- 
fort and  progress  does  not  depend  on  these,  and  which  of  these 
great  instrumentalities  does  not  lean  upon  education  and  in- 
telligence ? 

"  It  is  a  good  figure  of  speech,  that  which  used  to  be  em- 
ployed in  the  pulpit  and  prayer  meetings  of  New  England, 
likening  colleges  to  sources  that  send  out  refreshing,  fertiliz- 
ing streams  to  gladden  all  the  Church  and  the  land.  Men 
think  little  of  these  streams,  except  they  see  manufacturing 
villages  on  their  banks,  or  the  play  of  water- works  or  steam- 
ers floating  on  their  surface.  They  forget  how  many  beasts 
and  men  slake  their  thirst  there — how  many  rills  flow  away 
underground  to  feed  smaller  springs — how  they  lend  to  the 
morning  all  its  gentle  dew,  and  to  summer  its  showers,  that 
soften  the  furrows  and  make  the  fields  green.  1  might  right- 
ly claim  for  the  higher  institutions  of  learning,  that  their  in- 
fluence is  felt,  indirectly,  perhaps,  yet  powerfully,  in  all  the 
pulpits  of  the  land — in  all  the  books,  periodicals,  newspapers, 
and  tracts  that  form  the  intellectual  and  moral  element  of 
all  classes  of  our  people  ;  that  they  are  chief  agents  in  all 
the  sound  and  really  valuable  teaching  in  all  other  schools. 

"  My  conclusion  is,  that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
can  not  dispense  with  such  an  instrument.  She  must  edu- 
cate her  own  youth  and  those  of  her  adherents,  or  prove 
false  to  her  trust,  and  lose  them — and  generally  they  will  be 
lost  to  others.  She  must  stretch  out  her  arms  and  embrace 
all  the  lambs  of  her  flock.  This  is  a  great  work,  for  God  has 
made  us  a  great  people.  We  are  pressed  with  calls,  not  be- 
cause we  are  poor,  but  because  we  are  rich  in  success.  We 
are  like  the  man  who  found  it  necessary  to  pull  down  his 
barns  and  build  greater,  that  he  might  have  room  to  bestow 


86  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

all  the  fruits  that  his  ground  brought  forth  so  plentifully. 
We  have  more  churches  to  build,  because  God  fills  them  so 
fast — many  institutions  to  endow,  because  God  gives  us  such 
a  rapid  development.  It  is  a  glorious  destiny  this  of  follow- 
ing God's  workings,  and  co-working  with  him. 

"  I  say  the  Church  must  train  its  own  youth,  if  it  would 
save  them  —  if  it  would  retain  them  —  if  it  would  have  pol- 
ished shafts  in  its  quiver — bold  champions  to  meet  the  ene- 
my in  the  gate.  It  must  not  leave  its  goodly  young  men  to 
fall  away  to  the  enemy,  or  even  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  al- 
lies. We  want  them  all  for  our  great  work.  We  must  nur- 
ture and  cherish  them — must  polish  them  as  our  jewels — as 
our  bequest  to  the  future  and  to  Christ. 

"  Some  fear  encumbering  the  Church  with  too  much  work. 
There  may  be  danger,  but  not  if  it  be  the  right  sort  of  work. 
I  think  the  work  of  education  peculiarly  appropriate  to  her 
sphere.  We  should  attempt  nothing  that  is  foreign  from  the 
great  end  of  saving  souls  and  honoring  Christ.  But  our  col- 
leges and  schools  should  live  in  the  heart  of  the  Church — be 
part  and  parcel  of  it — be  imbued  with  its  spirit — imbosomed 
in  its  holy  atmosphere.  So  impressed  am  I  with  this  truth, 
that  I  would  resign  my  office  to-day  should  the  Church  dis- 
join my  work  from  its  operations,  and  supervision,  and  pat- 
ronage. This  is  my  cherished  sentiment.  I  am  Christ's 
minister  ;  I  must  do  his  work.  If  this  be  not  his — the  work 
of  his  Church — then  I  would  know  my  error.  I  may  not  do 
a  strange  work.  When  I  entered  the  ministry  twenty  years 
ago,  I  declined  a  chair  in  a  college  to  do  so,  on  this  same  prin- 
ciple. Disabled  from  preaching,  it  was  by  the  advice  of  my 
brethren  that  I  became  professor  in  a  state  institution,  which 
I  left  to  join  a  college  under  direct  religious  influences.  It 
was  without  my  consent  or  knowledge  that  I  was  made  pres- 
ident of  the  Wesleyan  University,  and  a  member  of  this  Con- 
ference. It  was  because  I  thought  it  a  call  of  Providence 
that  I  entered  on  a  work  which  I  love  greatly  less  than  I  do 


DR.    OLIN    AT    THE     WESLEYAN     UNIVERSITY.    87 

the  ministry.  I  have  supposed,  too,  that  I  was  where  this 
Conference  would  have  me.  I  suppose  so  still.  If  not,  I  will 
rejoice  to  obey  its  voice,  and  receive  the  humblest,  hardest 
field  of  labor  I  may  be  physically  able  to  occupy.  Sir,  I  have 
an  unsatisfied  desire  to  preach  Christ.  I  can  do  other  work 
as  duty,  but  not  of  choice.  I  have  been  broken  in  by  long, 
deep  afflictions,  and  have  done  almost  nothing  useful ;  but  I 
have  not  seen  a  day  in  twenty  years  in  which  I  would  not 
have  preferred  my  chance  in  your  ranks  to  any  other  situa- 
tion under  heaven.  I  have  had  too  many  near  views  of  eter- 
nity to  think  much  of  worldly  considerations,  and  am  under 
too  many  obligations  to  Christ  and  his  Church  to  be  at  liberty 
to  think  of  any  opportunity  to  serve  him  in  any  other  light 
than  that  of  privilege.  You  will  pardon  these  too  personal 
remarks.  It  was  perhaps  allowable  that,  in  my  circumstan- 
ces, I  should  say  something  of  myself.  It  is  the  first  time  I 
have  spoken  to  this  body  of  ministers,  into  which  I  have  come 
as  a  stranger,  and  have  been  received  as  something  more  than 
a  brother."* 

The  reader  may  perceive,  from  the  specimen  given, 
how  spontaneously  Dr.  Olin's  thoughts  took  the  course 
of  the  sensibilities.  This  gave  him  wonderful  power 
over  the  heart.  He  could  hardly  address  an  audience 
upon  any  subject  without  exciting  deep  sympathy. 
Yet  it  was  by  no  factitious  appeals,  nor  studied  art,  nor 
superficial  oratory,  nor  the  glitter  of  sparkling  embel- 
lishment. He  took  broad,  deep,  comprehensive  views  ; 
and  the  mighty  thoughts  he  would  evolve  sunk  pro- 
foundly into  the  souls  of  his  auditors,  and  brought  up 
gushes  of  emotion  too  powerful  to  be  repressed.  On 
one  occasion,  he  attended,  in  Middletown,  a  Conven- 
tion, the  object  of  which  was  to  project  a  new  rail-road, 

*  The  remainder  of  the  address  we  omit.  It  consisted  of  a  state- 
ment of  the  plan  of  endowment  already  given. 


88  LIFE     AND     LET  TEES. 

the  celebrated  Air  Line  ;  and  being  called  on  by  the 
president  to  make  a  few  remarks,  he  arose  and  com- 
menced, and  in  a  few  minutes  some  of  his  auditors 
were  in  tears !  His  theme  was  the  moral  and  social 
influence  of  modern  facilities  of  locomotion.* 

The  same  quality  gave  him  wonderful  influence  over 
an  audience  in  religious  services.  In  regard  to  his 
more  public  performances  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  speak. 
"We  allude  to  his  collegiate  services.  His  state  of  health 
did  not  allow  of  his  joining  the  religious  meetings  that 
were  held  in  the  college  ;  but  we  had  frequent,  indeed 
almost  constant  illustration  of  it  in  our  daily  chapel 
duties.  He  always,  when  able,  conducted  our  even- 
ing worship ;  and  his  prayers  on  those  occasions  were 
a  treat.  They  showed  wonderful  variety,  appropriate- 
ness, compass  of  thought,  and  fervency.  They  were 
never  mere  theological  disquisitions  nor  cold  abstrac- 
tions, on  the  one  hand ;  nor,  on  the  other,  boisterous, 
empty  declamation.  Eminently  he  prayed  with  the 
spirit  and  with  the  understanding  also.  His  prayers 
had  wonderful  power  in  bringing  other  spirits  with  his 
own  immediately  before  the  mercy-seat.  It  was  like 
one  talking  to  the  Divinity.  In  this,  we  believe,  is 
uttered  the  opinion  of  all  who  were  capable  of  forming 
a  correct  estimate  of  the  nature  of  this  sacred  duty. 

"We  have  said  he  did  not  usually  attend  the  religious 

*  A  few  days  after  this,  while  driving  out,  he  was  accosted  by  a 
farmer  driving  his  team,  who  introduced  himself  by  a  name  well 
known  in  that  region.  He  asked  him  if  he  were  going  to  preach  the 
next  Sunday,  or  at  what  time  he  would  preach.  That  he  had  heard 
him  speak  at  the  "Air  Line"  rail-road  meeting  ;  and  that  he  wished 
to  come  with  his  friends  and  neighbors,  who  were  Univers'alists  as 
well  as  himself,  to  hear  him  preach. 


DR.    OLIN     AT     THE    WESLEYAN     UNIVERSITY.    89 

meetings  in  college.  Sometimes  he  did,  and  one  occa- 
sion of  this  sort  deserves  to  he  mentioned.  It  was  dur- 
ing a  season  of  unusual  religious  interest.  Dr.  Olin 
was  confined  to  his  chamber  by  one  of  his  frequent 
attacks  ;  yet  he  inquired  at  every  opportunity  as  to 
the  progress  of  the  work,  and  became  deeply  interested 
in  several  cases  that  were  related  to  him.  At  length 
he  determined  to  be  present  and  take  part  in  what  was 
going  forward,  if  only  as  a  spectator.  He  attended  a 
prayer-meeting  in  one  of  the  recitation-rooms.  The 
Faculty  and  their  families,  with  a  large  number  of 
students,  filled  the  room.  After  two  or  three  hymns 
and  prayers,  Dr.  Olin  arose,  and,  having  alluded  to  his 
debility  and  unfitness  for  speaking,  remarked  that  he 
wished  to  say  only  a  few  words.  He  then  commenced 
an  exhortation  or  address  that  lasted  over  an  hour.  It 
was  a  deeply-thought,  clearly- conceived,  and  well-rea- 
soned oration,  full  of  religious  as  well  as  intellectual 
power,  that  profoundly  moved  the  entire  company. 
There  were  few  dry  eyes  in  the  room.  The  design  of 
the  discourse  was  to  invite  the  inquirer  to  Christ ;  to 
remove  hinderances  from  his  way ;  to  answer  objections 
to  the  plan  of  salvation  ;  and  show  the  sufficiency,  will- 
ingness, and  readiness  of  Christ  to  save.  The  topic 
was  common ;  but  the  ideas  and  illustrations  were 
original,  and  equally  convincing  and  powerful.  Few 
who  were  present  will  forget  that  address ;  and  some, 
no  doubt,  will  remember  it  through  eternity.* 

*  One  of  the  students,  who  had  resisted  all  the  entreaties  of  his 
class-mates  to  seek  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  came  in,  as  he  said,  to 
that  meeting  through  curiosity.  He  went  to  his  room  saying  to  him- 
self, if  the  way  by  faith  he  thus  simple,  surely  I  can  try.  He  kneeled 
alone  in  his  room  that  night,  and  there  was  converted  to  God. 


90  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

It  would  hardly  be  expected  from  Dr.  Olin's  early 
history,  his  want  of  interest  in  religion  during  his  edu- 
cation, his  early  call  to  preach  after  his  conversion,  and 
the  brief  period  in  which  preaching  and  teaching  relig- 
ion was  his  exclusive  or  primary  business,  that  he 
should  be  an  extensively  or  profoundly  read  theologian. 
We  remember  hearing  him  say,  that  of  religion  as  a 
science,  or  of  systematic  theology,  he  had  not  been  able 
to  read  much.  His  theology  was  very  much  that  of 
the  heart,  and,  intellectually,  it  consisted  of  broad  and 
deep  principles,  that,  indeed,  took  in  the  whole  compass 
of  revealed  truth  on  a  purely  evangelical  basis  ;  but  it, 
was  singularly  free  from  all  merely  scholastic  expres- 
sions or  cant  phrases.  Perhaps  it  was  this  that  gave 
an  air  of  good  sense  and  liberality,  a  sort  of  non-profes- 
sional character,  both  to  his  preaching  and  his  conver- 
sation, on  religious  topics.  The  odor  of  the  schools — a 
sort  of  bookishness,  hangs  about  most  clergymen,  that 
serves  to  repel  men  of  taste  and  liberal  views  ;  just  as 
we  naturally  shrink  from  a  physician  who  always  talks 
in  the  phrases  of  Hippocrates,  or  a  lawyer  forever  quot- 
ing Blackstone  and  Kent.  Yet  the  effect  was  not  the 
less  salutary.  Nay,  it  was  more  effective,  from  the  un- 
studied simplicity  and  naturalness  of  his  manner  both 
in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it. 

In  reading  the  earlier  part  of  Dr.  Olin's  life,  the  read- 
er has  seen  how,  from  a  state  of  skepticism,  he  was  di- 
vinely led  to  Christ.  He  did  not  receive  his  religion 
from  books,  or  any  other  mode  of  human  instruction. 
Being  unexpectedly  and  providentially  brought  into 
contact  with  divine  things,  and  led  almost  necessarily 
to  reflection  on  the  subject,  religion  became  a  felt  ne- 


DR.    OLIN    AT    THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    91 

cessity  of  his  interior  nature,  and  it  was  the  Spirit  of 
Grod  that  led  him,  through  his  own  consciousness,  into 
a  belief  in  the  truth,  and  power,  and  excellency  of  the 
Christian  faith.  It  was  also  his  own  personal  experi- 
ence that  led  him  to  the  doctrine  of  Christian  holiness. 
For  some  time  after  his  conversion,  he  was  skeptical  as 
to  this  high  degree  of  individual  piety ;  so  that,  when 
he  was  admitted  into  Conference  on  trial  as  a  preach- 
er, it  was,  as  we  heard  him  say,  with  an  understood 
reservation  on  this  point.  But,  in  after  years,  his  own 
sense  of  want,  his  spiritual  necessities,  his  need  of  a 
stronger,  clearer,  more  realizing  faith  in  things  divine, 
led  him  more  closely  to  Christ.  It  was  especially  un- 
der the  deep  affliction  he  passed  through  in  Europe, 
consequent  on  the  death  of  the  first  Mrs.  Olin,  that  he 
felt  the  want  of  this  blessedness,  and  of  a  more  perfect 
submission  and  conformity  to  the  Divine  will ;  and  we 
remember  his  saying  that  it  was  during  his  wander- 
ings in  Egypt,  and  while  engaged  in  deep  meditation 
and  mental  prayer  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  that  he 
first  felt  that  "  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear."  From 
this  time  the  doctrine  of  full  redemption  was  very  pre- 
cious to  him,  and  he  looked  with  painful  feelings  upon 
any  thing  calculated  to  bring  it  into  disrepute,  or  lower 
the  standard  of  piety  which  it  implies. 

Perhaps  we  may  be  pardoned  for  introducing  here  a 
little  incident,  showing  how  the  evangelism  of  the 
heart  served  the  purpose  of  a  theological  system.  On 
one  occasion,  the  conversation  with  a  friend  turned  on 
the  question  whether,  in  every  sermon,  the  minister 
should  preach  Christ  distinctively,  or  whether  he  might 
not  construct  his  sermons,  taking  the  knowledge  of  the 


92  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

way  of  salvation  among  his  hearers  for  granted.  Dr. 
Olin,  after  Chalmers,  inclined  to  the  latter  view  ;  his 
friend,  following  Legh  Richmond,  Cecil,  and  others,  ad- 
vocated the  former,  remarking,  that  he  could  not  con- 
ceive how  any  heart  that  deeply  felt  its  own  interest 
in,  and  dependence  on,  and  obligation  to  Christ,  that 
realized  how  completely  Christ  is  the  very  centre  and 
soul  of  the  Gospel  economy,  could  preach  a  sermon  on 
any  ordinary  occasion  without  presenting  the  Savior. 
The  doctor  replied  that,  for  his  part,  he  never  con- 
sciously, or  from  forethought,  constructed  his  sermons 
on  this  plan.  His  friend  added,  "  Then  you  so  much 
the  more  confirm  my  view ;  for  I  have  never  heard  you 
preach  a  sermon  without  preaching  Christ ;  and  I  have 
sometimes  referred  to  you  as  a  practical  illustration  of 
my  views ;  for  you  show  that  a  heart  that  lovingly  and 
confidingly  rests  on  Christ,  can  not  fail  to  keep  Him  in 
view  in  its  manifestations  of  religious  truth  and  enforce- 
ment of  religious  duty."  He  appeared  much  struck 
with  the  remark,  and  urged  his  point  no  further. 

We  would  not  have  it  inferred,  from  any  thing  said 
above,  that  Dr.  Olin  was  not  an  extensive  reader.  Far 
from  it.  In  addition  to  the  entire  curriculum  of  stud- 
ies which  he  went  through  very  thoroughly,  he  read 
largely  while  in  college.  He  kept  up  this  practice  of 
general  reading  afterward.  While  at  Athens  and  Ran- 
dolph Macon,  he  read  all  the  leading  authors  on  the 
several  branches  embraced  in  his  department.  For 
poetry  and  works  of  imagination  he,  perhaps,  had  not 
much  sympathy.  He  preferred  prose,  and  that  of  the 
most  robust  and  vigorous  kind.  In  mental  and  moral 
science  he  preferred  Butler,  Paley,  Locke,  and  Reid, 


DR.  OLIN     AT    THE     WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    93 

to  the  more  elegant  Stewart,  the  polished  Mackintosh, 
or  the  ornate  and  exuberant  Brown.  In  his  later  days, 
when  oppressed  with  protracted  illness,  he  still  kept  the 
run  of  current  literature,  so  that  one  was  often  surpris- 
ed at  his  acquaintance  with  authors,  as  vrell  as  at  the 
mature  views  he  expressed  in  regard  to  their  merits. 
John  Foster  and  Arnold  were  great  favorites  with  him ; 
Isaac  Taylor,  also,  he  liked,  but  not  so  much.  He 
liked  Chalmers,  but  his  style  was  not  compact  and 
terse  enough  to  suit  his  taste.  Carlyle  he  could  no 
way  tolerate.  He  did  not  believe  in  his  theories ; 
much  less  did  he  like  his  style.  I  should,  however, 
except  his  "  Oliver  Cromwell."  Nor  was  he  vastly 
pleased  with  Macaulay,  though  he  liked  his  essays 
much  better  than  his  history,  which  he  considered 
quite  godless  and  anti-Christian.  He  had  also  read  to 
some  extent,  how  far  I  do  not  know,  the  continental 
writers  on  mental  philosophy,  and  he  adopted  the  sound 
spiritualism  of  the  German  school,  without  going  the 
length  of  the  ultra-transcendentalists.  He  adopted  the 
distinction  between  the  reason  and  the  understanding, 
but  preferred  the  Scottish  modes  of  expression  for  gen- 
eral use,  as  more  intelligible  to  the  masses. 

Yet,  after  all,  Dr.  Olin  was  more  a  thinker  than  a 
reader.  What  he  read  was  the  source  of  new  ideas  to 
him,  and  so  incorporated  itself  with  his  mental  texture 
as  to  become  part  and  parcel  of  his  own  mind.  Thus 
one  detected  his  reading,  not  by  any  references  to  it, 
much  less  by  any  resemblances  or  imitation,  but  by 
the  enlargement,  depth,  and  comprehensiveness  of  his 
views,  and  his  thorough  familiarity  with  his  subjects. 
It  was  remarkable  that  he  seldom  made  quotations. 


94  LIFE      AND    LETTERS. 

We  scarcely  recall  a  single  instance.  Even  in  his  ser- 
mons and  prayers  he  seldom  quoted  Scripture,  but  gave 
the  idea  in  his  own  language.  So  much  was  this  the 
case,  that  he  would  not  follow  the  common  custom  of 
using  the  Lord's  Prayer  at  public  service  ;  indeed,  he 
seemed  to  have  some  inaptitude  at  remembering  words. 
He  so  accustomed  himself  to  think  through  his  topics, 
that,  provided  he  had  the  idea,  he  cared  little  about 
the  mere  dress  in  which  it  was  arrayed.  And  we  may 
here  remark,  in  closing  this  paragraph,  that  it  was 
quite  impracticable  for  him  to  memorize  his  own  ser- 
mons. On  his  more  elaborate  discourses,  it  is  true,  he 
wrote  largely,  but  it  was  only  to  help  him  to  think 
more  satisfactorily,  and  see  more  clearly  through  his 
subjects.  But  he  never  thought  of  confining  himself 
to  his  written  language.  His  sketch  was  usually  left 
in  his  study,  and  he  preached  without  note  or  memo- 
randa, and  often  with  the  Bible  closed  before  him. 

"We  can  not  conclude  the  sketch  of  Dr.  Olin's  con- 
nection with  the  "Wesleyan  University,  without  dwell- 
ing somewhat  on  his  influence  in  the  formation  of  the 
mental  and  moral  character  of  the  students.  This  in- 
fluence, however,  was  not  exerted  in  the  recitation- 
rooms,  for  he  never  conducted  a  class  through  any 
study.  More  than  one  attempt  he  made,  being  exceed- 
ingly desirous  to  come  in  contact  with  the  minds  com- 
mitted to  his  government,  in  that  way.  But  the  at- 
tempt was  vain.  After  a  very  few  recitations,  he  was 
obliged  to  give  it  up,  and  the  labor  devolved  upon  an- 
other officer.  Yet  his  power  was  sensibly  felt  in  an- 
other manner.  His  very  presence  in  the  building  had 
a  perceptible  moral  influence  over  the  little  commu- 


DR.   OLIN     AT     THE     WESLEYAN     UNIVERSITY.    95 

nity.  His  tread  within  the  walls  was  one  of  moral 
majesty.  His  presence  at  the  chapel  service,  and  the 
daily  prayers  he  offered,  when  able  to  "be  present,  had 
a  hallowing  power.  But  besides  this,  his  greatest  in- 
fluence was  exercised  by  his  occasional,  and  especially 
by  his  baccalaureate  sermons.  Of  these  discourses,  al- 
ready before  the  world,  it  is  fitting  that  we  should 
speak  more  at  length. 

It  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  second  year  of  his 
connection  with  the  college  that  he  ventured  to  preach 
before  the  graduating  class.  This  was  at  the  com- 
mencement, 1844.  His  text  on  that  occasion  was 
from  Titus,  ii.,  16  :  "  Young  men,  likewise,  exhort  to 
be  sober-minded."  Without  announcing  a  verbal  crit- 
icism on  the  word  sober-minded,  he  gave  the  true  im- 
port of  the  Greek  word  oufypovtiv,  and  stated  the  topic 
of  his  discourse  thus  :  "  The  young  are  admonished  to 
form  their  plans  of  life  with  thoughtful  deliberation, 
and  to  subject  their  conduct  to  such  laws  as  the  com- 
mon sense  and  experience  of  the  human  race  have  de- 
veloped and  prescribed."  In  the  elaboration  of  this  top- 
ic, he  delivers  some  lofty,  generous,  and  noble  thoughts. 
He  shows  the  importance  of  young  men  beginning  life 
aright.  "  Youth  is  confident,  and  inexperience  is  rash 
— errors  for  which  (rod  provides  an  antidote  in  the  les- 
sons of  history  and  religion."  He  shows  that  "our 
misfortunes  or  miscarriages  do  not  commonly  arise  from 
a  deficiency  in  native  talent  or  acquirements,  or  from 
the  untowardness  of  circumstances.  I  do  not  hesitate 
to  affirm,  that  a  liberally  educated  young  man,  of  or- 
dinary capacity,  has,  in  this  country  at  least,  all  the 
means  necessary  to  insure  usefulness,  respectability, 


96  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

and  happiness."  He  points  out  some  of  the  causes  of 
the  failure  of  young  men.  "We  will  not  "be  wiser  for 
the  past.  History  is,  for  the  most  part,  lost  upon  us — 
every  one  must  learn  for  himself — must  make  his  own 
mistakes — must  learn  wisdom  from  adversity — caution 
from  imprudences — temperance  from  excesses — indus- 
try from  want  or  from  avarice.  He  enforces  the  neces- 
sity of  being  sober-minded,  discreet,  of  giving  heed  to 
the  lessons  of  history  and  experience,  of  respecting  the 
laws  of  their  own  nature.  He  strenuously  enforces  the 
necessity,  in  order  to  success  in  life,  of  adhering  to  an 
elevated  standard  of  moral  integrity.  He  says,  "  al- 
ways resolve  to  do  right."  He  refers  as  well  to  thoughts 
and  feelings  as  to  overt  acts.  He  eloquently  carries 
out  this  idea.  "  The  soul  derives  its  character  and  its 
tendencies  still  more  from  its  cherished  thoughts  and 
feelings  than  from  external  influences.  That  will  be- 
come a  great  mind  which  is  in  the  habit  of  revolving 
great  thoughts,  and  the  young  man  who  seeks  to  make 
the  most  of  himself  must  be  select  in  the  musings  of 
his  solitary  hours  no  less  than  in  his  associates  and 
books.  The  sentiments  which  find  welcome  during 
these  seasons  of  repose,  not  only  mark,  but  make  the 
real  character  of  the  mind.  He  who  delights  to  com- 
mune with  low,  impure  thoughts  in  his  chamber,  is, 
or  soon  will  be,  thoroughly  debased  ;  nor  can  all  liberal 
studies  and  able  teaching  supply  an  antidote  to  the 
malignant  poison  that  works  and  spreads  within.  He, 
on  the  contrary,  who  nourishes  in  secret  an  ardent  love 
of  truth,  of  justice,  of  mercy,  and  of  purity — whose 
heart  warms  at  the  thought  of  doing  good,  or  of  suffer- 
ing in  a  good  cause — whose  indignation  burns  at  the 


DR.  OLIN     AT     THE     WESLEYAN     UNIVERSITY.    97 

suggestion  of  a  base  action,  or  of  a  selfish,  dishonorable 
motive — who  would  blush  to  plot,  or  perpetrate,  or  coun- 
tenance, under  the  hope  or  promise  of  concealment,  a 
deed  which  he  would  be  unwilling  to  meet  before  the 
eyes  of  all  men  and  of  God  —  such  a  young  man  is 
treasuring  up  in  his  noble  bosom  the  resources  of  a 
moral  and  intellectual  power,  which  in  some  great  day 
of  crisis  or  duty  will  come  forth  in  the  forms  of  an  over- 
bearing  eloquence  or  influence,  under  which  persecuted 
innocence,  or  the  cause  of  truth  or  patriotism,  will  de- 
light to  seek  shelter."  After  discoursing  at  length  in 
this  liberal  and  elevating  strain,  gradually  approach- 
ing the  ultimate  point  at  which  he  aimed,  he  says,  "I 
have  now  reached  the  point  for  making  that  disclosure. 
What  did  I  aver  to  be  the  true  sources  of  all  high  elo- 
quence and  influence  ?  A  heart  full  of  pure,  lofty  sen- 
timents— a  veneration  for  the  pure,  the  merciful,  the 
upright — a  tender  sympathy  with  man  and  with  good- 
ness. Something,  doubtless,  may  be  done  toward  the 
attainment  of  these  essential  principles  of  success  by 
a  watchful  and  painstaking  mental  culture,  but  religion 
is  their  only  sure  and  proper  source.  One  of  its  pre- 
cepts fulfilled  in  the  heart,  and  the  life  will  do  more  to 
make  an  educated  man  truly  eloquent  than  all  the  dog- 
mas of  Longinus  or  Cicero.  '  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself,'  is  the  fundamental  principle  and 
the  deep  spring  of  all  the  melting  sympathies  of  high 
eloquence.  The  soul  which  religion  has  purified  from 
its  gross  alloy  of  selfishness,  and  sensuality,  and  sin,  is 
just  then  prepared  to  enter  into  harmonies  with  what- 
ever is  ennobling  to  our  nature."* 

*  Dr.  Olin's  Works,  vol.  ii,  p.  115,  117,  118. 

E 


98  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


Such  was  Dr.  Olin's  manner  of  discoursing  to  the 
graduating  classes.  This  method  of  approaching  the 
subject  of  religion  is  well  calculated  to  awaken  kin- 
dred sympathies  in  the  breasts  of  high-minded  and  as- 
piring young  men,  and  move  them  to  adopt  lofty  and 
noble  aims  in  conduct.  It  had  this  effect,  undoubt- 
edly, on  many.  We  have  seen  the  tears  repeatedly 
start  from  the  eyes  of  his  rapt  auditors,  as  for  the 
last  time  they  were  thus  receiving  golden  instruction 
from  their  venerated  president. 

The  second  of  his  baccalaureate  sermons  is,  in  point 
of  intellectual  power,  fully  equal,  if  not  superior  to  the 
first,  and  it  was  more  overtly  and  thoroughly  evangelic- 
al. The  text  is — Rom.,  xiii.,  14 — "Put  ye  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  make  not  provision  for  the  flesh,  to 
fulfill  the  lust  thereof."  "  This  text,"  he  states  at  the 
outset,  "is  an  exhortation  to  be  evangelically  and  thor- 
oughly religious."  Having  thus  laid  down  his  topic, 
he  proceeds  to  elaborate  and  enforce  it,  with  a  wisdom 
and  vigor  not  often  given  to  man.  We  shall  not  at- 
tempt to  follow  him  in  his  train  of  thought.  We  com- 
mend the  sermon  to  the  perusal  of  our  readers,  assur- 
ing them,  especially  educated  youth,  that  it  will  repay 
their  labor.  It  is  entitled  "  The  Resources  and  Duties 
of  Christian  Young  Men." 

The  third  of  these  discourses  is  on  "  The  Relation  of 
Christian  Principle  to  mental  Culture."  It  is  founded 
on  the  text,  "  As  he  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he." — 
Prov.,  xxiii.,  7.  This  struck  us,  at  the  time  of  its  de- 
livery,  as  the  most  original,  comprehensive,  and  most 
complete  of  all  his  baccalaureates.  In  the  elucidation 
of  the  subject  contained  in  the  text,  he  lays  down  some 
pregnant  preliminary  thoughts,  each  of  which  he  very 


DR.  OLIN     AT    THE     WESLEY  AN     UNIVERSITY.    90 

happily  expands.  "  In  every  act  of  life  man  is  as  his 
intentions  are.  The  human  mind  is  as  the  thoughts 
with  which  it  is  chiefly  conversant.  The  mind  wants 
an  ample  supply  of  worthy  ideas,  to  furnish  it  with  in- 
teresting, productive  occupation."  He  at  length  con- 
verges these  preliminary  thoughts  into  a  comprehen- 
sive proposition :  "A  man's  moral  and  intellectual 
character  are  '  as  he  thinketh  in  his  heart' — are  as 
those  deep  and  earnest  thoughts  which  constitute  the 
moving  forces  of  the  soul,  and  which  regulate  the  life." 
He  then  proceeds  to  draw  out  the  profoundest  views  of 
the  true  theory  of  human  life,  in  all  its  best  relations 
to  time,  to  eternity,  and  to  God  ;  clearly  and  devoutly, 
in  most  elevated  strains,  pointing  the  soul  to  Christ,  as 
furnishing  the  only  safe  and  adequate  motives  to  men- 
tal culture,  as  well  as  the  only  ground  of  hope  for  eter- 
nity. He  closes  this  sermon  with  the  following  elo- 
quent appeal : 

"  I  have  brought  you  to  the  cross,  my  friends,  and  I 
leave  you  there.  Oh  !  be  content  to  receive  your  illu- 
mination from  this,  the  great  central  light  of  the  uni- 
verse !  Hence,  if  you  will  cultivate  the  loftiest  ambi- 
tion, and  secure  the  best  attainments,  hence  draw  your 
inspiration ;  hither  come  for  power  and  for  joy ;  hither 
bring  all  your  honors  and  successes,  and  consecrate 
them  '  to  Him  who  hath  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  his  own  blood.'  "Write  the  name  of  Christ 
upon  your  banner  ;  exalt  the  cross  high  above  all  idols. 
'  In  hoc  signo  vinces.'  Be 

'  Siloa's  brook,  that  flow'd 
Fast  by  the  oracles  of  God,' 

your  Castalia. 

"  To  such  good  auspices  it  is  my  privilege  once 


100  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


more  affectionately  to  commend  you.  And  may  the 
grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of  God, 
and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  with  you, 
now  and  ever.  Amen." 

The  last  sermon  delivered  to  a  graduating  class  by 
Dr.  Olin  was  in  August,  1849.  The  topic  is,  "  Early 
Piety  the  Basis  of  elevated  Character,"  from  1  John, 
ii.,  14.  This,  in  the  opinion  of  some,  was,  in  point  of 
excellency,  the  greatest,  as  it  was  the  last  of  his  efforts 
of  this  kind,  and  I  believe  the  last  public  discourse 
that  he  delivered.  It  involved  an  amazing  expendi- 
ture of  nervous,  intellectual,  and  moral  power.  Some 
idea  of  the  draft  upon  his  physical  system  may  be 
inferred  from  the  fact  that  he  was  not  less  than  two 
hours  and  forty  minutes  in  delivering  it ! 

One  can  not  form  an  adequate  idea  of  the  effect  of 
these  discourses  by  any  verbal  representation.  To  ap- 
preciate this  it  would  be  necessary  to  have  seen  and 
heard  for  one's  self.  They  were  not  uttered  as  coldly 
intellectual  productions.  They  were  not  delivered 
memoriter,  nor  from  notes.  As  in  his  other  pulpit  dis- 
courses, he  wrote  copiously,  but  left  his  notes  at  home, 
and  did  not  pretend  to  confine  himself  to  the  ipsissima 
verba.  This  gave  a  freedom  and  naturalness  to  his 
manner,  and  an  unrestrained  use  of  the  eye  and  play 
of  the  features.  His  gestures,  not  particularly  grace- 
ful, nor  yet  ungainly  or  awkward,  were  appropriate 
and  impressive ;  for  they  seemed  to  flow  spontaneous- 
ly from  the  impulses  of  his  own  heart.  They  were 
evidently  not  studied  or  thought  of  beforehand.  His 
voice  was  not  naturally  musical,  and  yet,  in  preaching, 
it  was  touching  and  effective.  Indeed,  his  whole  ap- 
pearance and  manner  in  the  pulpit,  his  gestures,  voice. 


DR.  OLIN    AT    THE    WESLEYAN    UNIVERSITY.    101 

and  countenance,  tended  to  produce  conviction  of  his 
earnestness  and  depth  of  feeling.  One  could  not  avoid 
perceiving  that  his  whole  heart  was  in  the  work,  that 
his  soul  was  filled  with  deepest,  tenderest  sensibility. 
Ever  and  anon  his  voice  would  rise  above  its  usual 
pitch,  his  breast  would  swell  up  with  emotion,  his 
eyes  fill  with  tears,  while  he  would  pour  out  his  pon- 
derous stirring  thoughts  in  long,  rolling  sentences,  that 
held  both  thought  and  feeling  in  highest  tension. 
Powerful  were  the  impressions  then  produced.  No  one 
of  serious  mind,  of  manly  thought,  or  earnestness  of 
purpose,  could  avoid  entering  into  deepest  sympathy 
with  the  preacher.  And  invaluable  was  the  influence 
which  such  a  mind,  in  such  a  position,  exercised  over 
the  youthful  spirits  committed  to  his  supervision. 

It  was  in  the  year  1845  that  the  Faculty  and  Trust- 
ees of  Yale  College  gave  the  following  testimony  to  their 
respect  for  his  character  and  attainments  : 

"Yale  College,  August  27th,  1845. 

"  REV.  AND  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  the  happiness  of  stating  to 
you  that  the  corporation  of  this  college,  at  our  late  public 
commencement,  conferred  on  you  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Laws.  We  present  to  you  this  expression  of  our  regard,  not 
with  the  expectation  of  elevating  the  rank  which  you  already 
hold  in  public  estimation,  but  as  a  just  tribute  of  respect  to 
moral  and  literary  worth. 

"  I  am  well  aware  that  these  academical  titles  are  in  dan- 
ger of  losing  their  distinction  by  being  distributed  with  too 
lavish  a  hand  ;  but  this  college  aims  to  proceed  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  selecting  those  who  will  confer  honor  rather  than  re- 
ceive it,  by  being  enrolled  in  the  list  of  its  favorites. 
"  With  respectful  regard,  your  friend  and  servant, 

"  JEREMIAH  DAY. 

"  Rev.  President  Olin,  D.D.,  LL.D." 


102  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FIRST  DAYS  IN  MIDDLETOWN— PUBLICATION  OF  TRAVELS  IN  THE 
EAST— HIS  MARRIAGE. 

THE  course  of  the  narrative  has  been  somewhat  an- 
ticipated that  a  full  view  of  Dr.  Olin's  relations  with 
the  "Wesley an  University  might  be  presented.    We  now 
take  up  the  thread  of  his  personal  history  after  his  re- 
moval to  Middletown,  by  quoting  from  the  memoranda 
of  a  friend,  one  of  the  circle  who  extended  to  him  a 
most  cordial  welcome  to  his  new  home.     "  The  doctor 
showed  his  usual  promptitude  in  coming  on  to  Middle- 
town  immediately,  or  very  soon  after  his  acceptance  of 
the  presidency.     My  nephew  announced  his  unexpect- 
ed, but  most  welcome  arrival,  when  he  came  down  to 
dinner,  and  told  us  of  the  eager  joy  which  had  been 
expressed  by  all  the  students.     They  were  once  more 
to  have  a  head — and  such  a  head !     How  well  I  re- 
member that  September  day,   '  so  calm,  so  cool,  so 
bright.'     I  had  some  dear  friends  staying  with  me,  one 
of  whom,  whose  mind  and  heart  were  akin  to  his  own, 
he  has  met  in  heaven.     She  loved  the  Church  and  its 
institutions,  and  her  sunken  eye  brightened  when  we 
spoke  of  our  risen  hopes  for  the  University.     '  Will  it 
do  for  us  to  visit  him  ?'  we  asked,  doubtfully  ;  '  will  he 
be  too  tired  to  see  us,  or  too  dignified  to  be  intruded 
upon  at  this  early  hour  ?'     How  strange  these  doubts 
appeared  to  us  in  after  days  !     My  young  friend,  E.  B., 
and  I  went  to  Professor  Smith's  together.     We  were 


FIRST    DAYS    IN     MIDDLE  TOWN.  103 

shown  into  the  parlor,  and  sent  our  names.  Oh,  ho\v 
very  often  has  my  first  glimpse  of  him  recurred  to  my 
mind.  It  was  the  moment  when  he  stood  '  grand  made 
and  strong,'  like  a  full-sized  picture  in  the  door  of  the 
little  room  at  the  right.  All  timidity  vanished  the 
moment  he  spoke  to  us  ;  he  was  our  dear  friend — our 
brother.  Would  he  come  to  tea  the  next  evening  ?  I 
asked.  I  had  an  invalid  friend  who  wished  to  become 
acquainted  with  him  ;  but  she  could  bear  no  other  com- 
pany ;  and  would  he  come  early  ?  He  did  come  early, 
and  a  lovely  visit  we  had.  The  conversation  was  car- 
ried on  principally  between  poor,  dear  Mrs.  N and 

the  doctor.  Long  was  it  since  such  a  treat  had  been 
afforded  her.*  We  were  all  struck  with  his  manner 
of  asking  a  blessing  at  tea — it  was  worship,  and  thanks- 
giving, and  praise,  not  a  formal  rite.  This  we  always 
felt  afterward  ;  but  that  was  the  first  time,  and  it  af- 
fected us  deeply.  That  afternoon  was  the  commence- 
ment of  a  series  of  delightful  interviews  with  Dr.  Olin 
How  much  we  enjoyed  his  society — how  elevating  to 
the  mind  and  profitable  to  the  heart  I  always  found  it ! 
Soon  after  this  he  drove  me  out,  one  glorious  autumn 
day,  and  he  spoke  of  his  affection  for  the  ladies  of  the 
Faculty.  He  said  he  had  not  seen  a  more  united  com- 
pany ;  that  he  prized  our  efforts  to  make  him  happy ; 
he  loved  our  cheerful  associations  and  little  tea-drink- 
ings,  but,  he  added,  '  you  do  not  pray  together ;  you 
meet,  laugh,  and  talk  together  ;  but,  as  far  as  I  under- 

*  The  impression  Dr.  Olin  made  upon  her  was  so  strong  that, 
shortly  before  her  death,  which  took  place  in  New  Brunswick  in  De- 
cember, she  spoke  of  him,  and  blessed  God  that  he  had  kindled  such 
a  light  to  illuminate  our  Church. 


104  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

stand  it,  you  never  pray  together.'  His  conversation 
was  rich,  varied,  and  discursive.  He  was  ever  ready, 
at  the  slightest  suggestion,  to  pursue  any  subject,  and 
draw  from  it  rich  treasures  of  wisdom.  We  spoke  of 
paintings,  and  he  said  that  he  was  able  to  study  them 
when  abroad ;  that,  on  entering  the  Louvre,  he  was 
quite  overwhelmed  and  confused  by  the  multitude  and 
beauty  of  these  works  of  art,  but  that  he  commenced 
systematizing  them,  taking  one  picture  at  a  time  for 
examination,  and  he  had  thus  become  familiar  with 
the  French,  Italian,  and  Flemish  schools.  He  admired 
the  policy  of  Louis  Philippe  in  throwing  open  galleries 
and  palaces  to  the  people,  and  he  thought  it  a  great 
means  of  civilization.  He  could  not  but  contrast  the 
peasantry  of  France — as,  with  clean  faces,  and  in  their 
well- washed  blouses,  they  gazed  with  interest  on  paint- 
ings of  merit — with  our  citizens,  wrangling  over  penny 
papers,  screaming  politics,  and  abusing  their  rulers.* 

"  On  the  4th  of  December,  1842,  he  preached  for  the 
first  time  in  six  years.  I  believe  only  one  individual 
in  Middletown  had  ever  heard  him  before.  On  being 
asked,  'What  is  his  preaching  like  ?'  he  replied,  '  Like 
standing  under  Niagara.'  Dr.  Olin  said  the  day  be- 
fore, to  a  friend,  that  he  felt  his  position  to  be  rather  a 
painful  one,  in  having  to  preach  with  the  raised  expect- 
ations he  had  been  told  were  entertained,  but  there 
was  only  one  course  for  him  to  pursue — to  preach  the 

*  He  returned  to  this  country  in  the  autumn  of  1840  when  the 
people  were  deeply  moved  with  the  approaching  presidential  election  ; 
and,  accustomed  as  he  had  been  for  many  months  to  the  still  life  of 
Oriental  lands,  the  contrasted  uproar  and  noisy  whirl  of  this  Western 
World  strongly  impressed  him. 


FIRST    SERMON    IN    M  I  DDL  E  T  O  \V  N. 


Grospel  in  all  simplicity.  Too  long  had  he  hung  be- 
tween life  and  death,  too  near  had  he  been  to  eternity 
ever  to  pay  the  slightest  deference  to  the  opinions  of 
the  world.  And  well  did  he  perform  the  vow  he  had 
made  to  his  Grod  ;  for  so  pointed  and  pungent  an  ap- 
peal to  the  consciences  of  the  professed  Christian  and 
the  sinner  I  have  never  heard.  I  turn  to  the  printed 
sketch  of  this  sermon,  and  oh,  how  meagre  does  it  ap- 
pear !  Toward  the  close,  weeping  and  trembling  with 
emotion,  he  asked,  '  Do  you  long  to  work  for  Christ,  and 
can  you  find  nothing  to  do  ?  Oh  !  go  to  the  humblest 
Sunday-school,  knock  at  the  door,  ask  to  be  permitted 
to  sit  down  by  the  lowliest  child,  and  teach  him  the 
alphabet  of  religion — tell  him  Christ  died  for  the  world.' 
Then,  with  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  he  said  he 
must  thank  Gfod  for  giving  him  another  opportunity  of 
declaring  His  Gospel,  after  having,  in  consequence  of 
protracted  illness,  long  resigned  the  hope  of  ever  being 
able  to  do  so." 

In  a  letter  to  his  brother,  dated  December  6th,  Dr. 
Olin  says,  "  You  may  be  interested  to  hear  that  I  tried 
to  preach  last  Sunday.  I  did  not  suffer  seriously  in 
the  effort,  at  least  so  far  as  consequences  have  yet  ap- 
peared. I  was  enabled  to  rise  above  all  care  but  for 
the  glory  of  Christ,  and  I  think  he  was  clearly  present 
to  confirm  a  very  simple  and  direct  testimony.  This, 
after  all,  is  the  work  desirable  above  all  others.  I  fear  I 
could  not  be  here  were  I  able  to  preach  regularly.  Yet 
I  am  very  happy  to  do  Grod's  will  even  here  ;  and  if,  in 
addition  to  my  professional  duties,  I  may  do  something 
in  the  way  of  preaching,  I  shall  be  thankful  indeed. 

"  We  have  had  a  quiet,  profitable  term.     The  num- 
E  2 


LIFE    AND     LETTERS. 


ber  of  new  students  received  has  been  greater  than  at 
any  former  period  of  the  same  length.  I  hope  you  all 
pray  for  this  institution." 

He  spent  the  winter  vacation  in  New  York,  in  the 
family  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Fletcher  Harper,  where  he  al- 
ways met  with  the  most  thoughtful  kindness  and  the 
most  considerate  hospitality.  He  was  engaged  at  this 
time  in  reading  the  proof-sheets  of  his  Travels  in  the 
East,  which  were  published  in  the  spring.  They  were 
received  with  great  favor,  and  obtained  a  wide  circula- 
tion. Shortly  after  their  publication,  the  Hon.  H.  W. 
Hilliard,  charge  d'affaires  at  Brussels,  wrote  to  Dr.  Olin 
from  that  city,  on  the  13th  of  July,  1843  :  "  Egypt 
and  the  Holy  Land  are  both  fields  of  undying  interest 
to  mankind,  and  it  is  no  small  privilege  to  be  able 
to  read  the  narrative  of  one  who  has  so  fully  explored 
them,  and  who  was  so  well  prepared  for  the  task,  you 
will  permit  me  to  say,  by  bringing  to  their  observation 
a  mind  enriched  with  learning,  and  guided  by  a  pure 
Christian  faith.  I  am  particularly  struck  with  the 
manliness  with  which  you  give  your  assent  to  the  tra- 
ditions which  preserve  so  many  consecrated  spots  in 
Palestine,  while  many  superficial  observers  make  it  a 
point  to  question  their  claims  to  sacred  recollections. 
The  great  objects  in  the  scenery  of  that  land  must  re- 
main much  the  same  as  they  were  at  the  time  when 
those  events  transpired,  which  have  thrown  over  them 
a  sacred  and  immortal  interest." 

The  following  extract,  from  a  discriminating  notice 
in  one  of  the  periodicals  of  the  day,  indicates  the  dis- 
tinguishing excellences  of  the  work  : 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  a  third  edition  of  this  valuable  work 


TRAVELS     IN     THE     EAST.  107 

announced.  We  formed  a  high  estimate  of  it  on  its  first  ap- 
pearance, and  are  happy  to  find  our  judgment  confirmed 
by  its  extensive  sale.  In  many  respects,  it  is  the  best  book 
for  general  readers  that  has  yet  appeared  in  regard  to  the 
countries  of  which  it  treats.  This  is  eminently  true  in  ref- 
erence to  Dr.  Olin's  account  of  Egypt.  He  certainly  occu- 
pied his  time  on  the  Nile  to  the  best  advantage  ;  and  he  has 
not  only  given  a  very  clear  account  of  the  remains  of  antiq- 
uity which  line  the  banks  of  that  river,  but  has  also  brought 
an  amount  of  information  in  regard  to  the  policy  of  Moham- 
med Ali,  and  the  present  condition  of  the  country,  that  can 
be  found  in  no  single  treatise  that  we  know  of  in  the  lan- 
guage. His  account  of  Petra,  too,  is  superior  to  any  work 
that  is  accessible  to  common  readers.  Laborde's  elaborate 
book  has  not  been  republished  in  this  country.  Mr.  Ste- 
phens's  graphic  narration  does  not  profess  to  give  any  accu- 
rate details.  Dr.  Robinson  was  very  industrious  during  his 
visit  to  Petra,  and  has  recorded  what  he  saw  with  his  usual 
fidelity  ;  but  his  stay  was  too  short  to  allow  of  very  exten- 
sive observations.  Dr.  Olin.  remained  three  days  without 
any  molestation,  and  ha*  recorded  the  results  of  his  investi- 
gation with  great  j»erspieuity.  We  have  followed  him,  in- 
deed, throus^0^  his  tour  with  wonder  at  the  activity  and 
zeal  with  which,  invalid  as  he  was,  he  prosecuted  his  re- 
searches. Few  men  could  see  so  much  in  the  same  time, 
and  fewer  still  could  describe  it  so  well."' 

In  January,  1843,  Dr.  Olin  went  to  Lima,  in  West- 
ern New  York,  to  deliver  an  address  at  the  opening  of 
the  Grenesee  "Wesleyan  Seminary.  This  address  on 
academic  teaching,  which  may  be  found  in  the  second 
volume  of  his  works,  is  thus  characterized  by  Professor 
Whedon  :  "  It  abounds  with  sound  doctrines  ably  sus- 
tained. The  review  of  the  various  literary  bubbles 


108  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

which  have  been  flung  up  by  the  levity  of  popular  hu- 
mor upon  the  surface  of  the  popular  current,  moment- 
arily to  burst  and  return  to  their  own  nothingness  again, 
sounds  very  much  like  the  triumph  of  a  champion  who 
has  conquered  a  boastful  foe  with  scarce  the  trouble  of 
a  battle."  In  the  spring,  he  preached  at  one  of  the 
annual  Conferences,  with  what  power  we  may  learn 
from  the  annexed  testimony  of  one  of  his  hearers : 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  the  impression  made  upon  my  mind 
and  heart  by  one  of  his  first  sermons  after  his  return  from 
Europe,  as  he  stood,  a  spiritual  prince,  before  the  thousands 
of  Israel,  at  one  of  our  annual  Conferences,  and,  in  his  own 
impassioned  and  peculiar  manner,  discoursed  of  the  deep 
things  of  God.  His  text  was  the  language  of  our  Lord  : 
'  Let  not  your  heart  he  troubled  ;  ye  believe  in  God,  believe 
also  in  me.'  How  "beautifully  he  developed  the  thought 
couched  in  these  divine  words  —  the  necessity  of  faith  in 
Christ  to  allay  our  fears  and  assure  our  hopes  .  He  drew  a 
picture  of  a  world  without  a  Savior.  He  supposed  its  fallen 
and  guilty  population  to  have  a\l  the  knowledge  of  God— 
of  his  power  and  dominion— of  hia  holiness,  justice,  and  truth 
— which  we  now  have  ;  but  no  knowledge  Of  a  Redeemer, 
and  no  intimation  or  hope  of  redemption.  They  saw  death 
and  the  grave  before  them,  but  no  Gospel  had  brought  life 
and  immortality  to  light.  The  vast  procession  of  humanity, 
swept  on  by  an  invisible  fate,  went  plunging  into  a  midnight 
gulf.  Generation  after  generation  disappeared,  and  no  one 
knew  their  destiny.  The  picture  was  the  most  vivid  and 
terrific  I  ever  saw  executed  in  a  pulpit ;  and  the  feeling  in 
the  audience  was  rising  to  agony,  when,  stretching  himself 
to  his  utmost  height,  and  throwing  himself  forward  over  the 
pulpit,  with  his  long  arms  reached  out  as  if  for  help,  and  ev- 
ery muscle  of  his  gigantic  frame  quivering  with  intense  emo- 
tion, he  exclaimed,  'And  here  we  are,  driven  forward,  an  un- 


SERMON     AND    ADDRESSES. 


willing  herd,  toward  that  fatal  limit — looking  for  light,  and 
there  is  no  ray — calling  for  help,  and  there  is  no  answer  !' 
At  this  moment  one  vast  groan  burst  from  the  whole  assem- 
bly, mingled  with  sobs  and  cries,  as  if  all  were  plunging  down 
the  precipice  together  !  Then  the  preacher  introduced  the 
Redeemer  dying  for  our  sins  and  rising  for  our  justification  ; 
and  showed  how  faith  in  him  could  assuage  the  fears  of  sin- 
ners, and  inspire  the  hope  of  saints.  Never,  either  before  or 
since,  was  I  so  perfectly  entranced  by  the  eloquence  of  the 
pulpit,  and  the  two  hours  that  intervened  between  the  text 
and  the  close  seemed  but  a  few  short  moments." 

His  speech  at  the  anniversary  of  the  American  Bible 
Society  in  May  is  published  in  his  works,  and  embod- 
ies deep  and  cherished  sentiments  on  Christian  union 
and  fellowship. 

He  also  made  an  address  at  the  twenty-fourth  anni- 
versary of  the  Missionary  Society  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  unfolding  and  enforcing  the  great  truth, 
that  God  holds  the  Church  responsible  for  the  evan- 
gelization of  the  world.  "  Did  the  Church,"  said  he, 
"really  believe  the  Gospel  to  be  as  necessary  to  the 
heathen  as  it  is  to  us,  there  would  be,  at  once  and  for- 
ever, an  end  to  her  guilty  repose.  They  who  give  full 
credit  to  such  truths  do  not  sleep  over  them.  It  would 
be  easier  to  find  rest  in  our  beds  above  the  throes  of  an 
earthquake.  The  agonies  of  Laocoon  and  his  children, 
dying  in  the  coils  of  the  serpent,  were  but  pastime  com- 
pared with  those  of  the  Church,  until  she  had  either 
unlocked  herself  from  the  grapple  of  this  tremendous 
conviction,  or  disburdened  her  conscience  by  a  faithful 
consecration  of  her  energies  to  the  work  of  rescuing  the 
world  from  its  doom." 

With  returning  health  he  was  ready  to  respond  to 


110  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


the  calls  which  reached  him  from  various  quarters. 
Many  were  the  congratulations  received  from  his  friends 
on  his  restoration  to  usefulness,  occasionally  coupled 
with  warnings  against  a  too  lavish  expenditure  of  re- 
turning energies.  His  early  friend,  Bishop  Andrew, 
who  well  knew  his  liabilities,  wrote  him  an  earnest  let- 
ter on  the  subject,  which  is  included  in  the  correspond- 
ence of  this  year.  On  the  16th  of  May,  he  gave  an  ad- 
dress at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  a  Methodist 
Church,  in  Norfolk  Street,  New  York.  His  theme  was, 
that  city  churches  are  great  centres  of  usefulness.  His 
second  topic  was,  that  multiplying  facilities  for  relig- 
ious worship  and  instruction  in  large  cities  is  a  most 
useful  work,  considered  either  as  the  means  of  prevent- 
ing evil  or  of  doing  good.  He  described  the  population 
of  large  cities — "  a  congress  of  the  bad,  the  destitute, 
the  ignorant,  the  reckless  of  all  nations,  where  sin  was 
rife  and  rampant,  temptations  numerous  and  powerful." 
He  showed  that  these  masses  could  be  regenerated  only 
by  religion;  that  "other  safeguards  and  antidotes  were 
too  weak  and  partial  in  their  operation." 

"  There  is  need,"  said  he,  "  for  the  coming  forth  and  inter- 
ference of  a  great  pervading  principle,  adapted  to  all  ranks, 
and  minds,  and  habits.  That  principle  is  religion.  When 
God  stretches  out  his  arm,  and  lays  his  hand  upon  the  heart 
of  the  multitude,  the  tumult  is  hushed.  A  common  tie  is  dis- 
covered— a  common  sympathy  is  awakened.  Strong  tenden- 
cies to  union,  and  affection,  and  co-operation,  and  progress  are 
evolved.  The  loose  stones  of  the  quarry  come  together  and 
take  the  lovely  forms  and  proportions  of  a  temple  of  peace 
and  purity — of  a  temple  of  God. 

"  Now,  and  not  till  now,  the  foundation  of  real  improve- 
ment— of  permanent  good — is  laid.  Now  that  men  begin  to 


CHURCHES  CENTRES  OF  USEFULNESS.    Ill 

reverence  the  Bible,  they  may  consent  to  reverence  the  laws 
of  the  land.  The  new  associations  in  which  religion  bands 
them  together  become  alliances  for  the  promotion  of  knowl- 
edge, and  charity,  and  humanity — the  centre  of  many  sys- 
tems of  benevolence  and  love — the  source  of  mutual  confi- 
dence, and  sympathy,  and  happiness.  Civilization,  and  re- 
iinement,  and  true  dignity  of  character  have  a  basis  for  their 
operations,  and  a  future  opened  before  them. 

"  The  opening  of  a  new  church  in  a  needy  district  of  the 
city  is  a  new  and  powerful  guarantee  for  public  order,  and 
social  and  civic  happiness.  High  aspirations  and  pure  affec- 
tions will  be  called  into  play,  which  had  else  been  forever 
dormant.  Fresh  agencies  move  away  in  their  several  spheres 
to  do  the  work  of  mercy  and  of  Christ.  A  company  of  gen- 
erous youths,  who  never  did  any  good  before  perhaps,  now 
that  an  open  field  lies  before  them,  enter  joyful  into  the  rip- 
ening harvest.  The  children  are  gathered  from  the  streets, 
and  lanes,  and  cellars,  and  garrets  into  Sabbath-schools,  where 
they  learn  their  duty  and  destiny  from  the  Bible,  and  their 
tender  hearts  learn  to  show  forth  the  praises  of  the  Redeemer 
in  hymns  and  spiritual  songs.  Kind-hearted,  gentle  females 
are  seen  on  angel  errands  in  the  habitations  of  the  poor,  dis- 
tributing tracts  that  may  save  souls,  and  luring  to  the  place 
of  learning  and  the  house  of  God  the  neglected  lambs  for 
whom  yet  Jesus  died. 

"  The  new  church,  too,  makes  active  and  useful  a  large 
class  of  men  who  were  but  drones  and  cumberers  of  the  ground 
before.  Now,  these  feel  for  the  honor  of  Christ's  cause,  and 
toil  and  give  for  its  prosperity.  They  become  part  and  par- 
cel of  the  great  movement.  They  care  for  the  prosperity  of 
Zion.  They  love  her  very  stones.  They  devise  and  pray  for 
the  peace  of  Jerusalem.  They  become  deeply  interested  in 
all  the  decencies  of  public  worship — stand  on  the  right  and 
left  of  the  pastor,  and  hold  up  his  hands. 

"A  new  messenger  of  Christ — a  new  witness  for  the  truth 


LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


and  righteousness — a  new  advocate  for  virtue,  honesty,  and 
industry,  and  all  the  decencies  and  charities  of  civilized  and 
improved  life,  is  brought  into  contact  with  the  mind  and  con- 
science of  the  multitude 

"  City  churches  possess  many  very  peculiar  advantages  for 
doing  good  and  honoring  the  Master.  They  naturally  and 
in  fact  constitute  the  centre  and  heart  of  all  the  churches  of 
the  land.  They  are  in  some  sort  the  eye — the  sentinel  of  the 
rest.  They  are  lights  to  others.  They  are  the  guardians 
of  the  general  interest — advisory  councils,  and  depositories 
of  all  trusts.  We  all  rely  upon  their  pecuniary  aid — upon 
their  quick,  strong  sympathy  with  the  general  interest.  The 
pulses  of  the  city  churches  beat  quick.  They  are  well  band- 
ed— used  to  co-operation.  They  confide  in  each  other.  One 
city  Christian  is  commonly  worth  more  to  missions  and  other 
interests  than  ten  country  Christians.  They  give,  and  are 
used  to  it.  They  rejoice  in  opportunities  of  thus  honoring 
Christ.  They  come  to  be  partakers  of  his  joy  and  sorrow — 
to  be  part  of  his  kingdom  !"* 

In  the  correspondence  of  this  year  will  be  found  a 
letter  from  Dr.  Olin's  highly  respected  friend,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Ignatius  Few.  A  close  friendship,  formed  at  a  pe- 
riod when,  in  each  life  history,  doubts  and  darkness 
had  given  place  to  the  calm  and  abiding  certainty  of 
a  satisfying  religious  belief,  and,  aided  by  a  strong  con- 
geniality of  sentiment  and  character,  soon  bound  to- 
gether with  enduring  ties  these  kindred  spirits.  Most 
characteristic  is  Dr.  Olin's  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
his  friend.  It  was  written  (March  27th,  1849),  at  the 
request  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Sprague,  for  the  pages  of  the 
work  which  he  is  editing — Sketches  of  eminent  Amer- 
ican Ministers ;  and  from  the  copy  of  a  letter  kindly 
*  MS.  sketch. 


SKETCH     OF     DR.    FEW.  113 

furnished  by  Dr.  Sprague,  the  following  extract  is  ta- 
ken : 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Few  commenced  in  1824  or 
1825,  immediately  after  his  conversion.  I  was  then  strongly 
impressed  with  his  very  remarkable  intellectual  powers  and 
resources.  He  was  already  approaching  the  maturity  of 
middle  age.  After  the  customary  period  devoted  to  collegi- 
ate and  professional  study  (he  was  a  lawyer),  he  seemed  to 
have  devoted  himself  industriously,  almost  exclusively,  to 
general  reading.  He  was  at  home  in  nearly  every  depart- 
ment of  human  knowledge  —  in  history,  philosophy,  poetry, 
and  the  sciences.  In  this  wide  range  of  subjects,  he  had 
been  not  merely  a  reader,  but  a  thoughtful  student.  His 
conversation  was  solid  and  brilliant,  simple  and  unostenta- 
tious, yet  rich  in  allusions  and  illustrations  supplied  by  his 
large  acquisitions.  He  had  great  familiarity  with  ethical 
and  metaphysical  speculations,  and  I  think  fondness,  as  he 
certainly  possessed  uncommon  capacity  for  them ;  and  to 
these,  perhaps  prosecuted  eagerly,  but  without  any  well-set- 
tled principles  or  aims,  he  was  indebted  for  his  confirmed 
skepticism  in  regard  to  all  the  truths  and  interests  of  relig- 
ion. I  at  least  inferred  this  from  his  ascribing  the  infidelity 
of  a  friend,  a  man  of  rare  genius,  and  for  many  years  his  as- 
sociate and  intimate,  to  a  false  theory  of  metaphysics.  Dr. 
Few  had  just  escaped  from  the  snare  of  the  devil,  and  was 
rejoicing  in  the  liberty  of  a  child  of  God  at  the  time  of  my 
first  introduction  to  him.  I  can  never  forget  the  strong  im- 
pression made  upon  me  by  that  interview.  He  seemed  still 
to  be  panting  with  his  recent  struggle  against  the  powers  of 
darkness.  His  noble  intellect  had  grappled  manfully  with 
all  the  dark  problems  of  unbelief,  and  had  triumphed  over 
them  ;  arid  he  now  looked  back  with  trembling,  tearful  as- 
tonishment into  the  abyss  of  error  and  sin  where  he  had  dwelt 
so  long  and  so  unconsciously,  and  from  which  the  grace  of 


114  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

God  had  granted  him  a  deliverance  so  manifest.  He  entered 
at  once  into  the  genial  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  and  comprehend- 
ed, as  by  a  new-born  intuition,  the  breadth  of  its  divine  phi- 
losophy, and  its  wonderful  adaptations  to  the  wants  of  a  mind 
like  his,  so  long  and  so  grievously  misled  and  tormented  by 
vain  speculation.  Doubts  and  fears  had  vanished,  and  he  sat 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus  all  grateful  and  adoring,  humble  and 
teachable  as  a  child,  and  yet  with  an  air  of  holy  triumph  at 
having  won  a  position  so  impregnable  and  secure.  From 
that  time  Dr.  Few  was  a  most  decided,  unwavering  Chris- 
tian. In  all  my  subsequent  acquaintance  and  correspondence 
with  him,  I  never  heard  of  a  doubt  or  a  misgiving.  He  was 
called  to  endure  heavy  trials,  and  his  whole  life  was  made  up 
of  suffering  and  sorrow,  but  I  think  he  never  moved  away 
from  the  cross,  nor  failed  in  the  faith  which  makes  appropria- 
tion of  its  lessons  and  resources.  The  last  letter  which  I  re- 
ceived from  him,  written  nearly  twenty  years  after  the  peri- 
od of  his  conversion,  and  only  a  short  time  before  his  death, 
affords  pleasing  evidence  that  he  maintained  to  the  last  that 
simple,  child-like' piety  which  characterized  his  entrance  on 
the  Christian  life,  and  shed  so  mild  a  lustre  on  his  high  intel- 
lectual attributes 

"  Dr.  Few  entered  the  ministry  very  soon  after  his  conver- 
sion ;  but  he  was  enabled,  during  twenty  years  of  his  remain- 
ing life,  to  devote  a  few  only  to  this  sacred  calling.  Through- 
out the  whole  of  this  period,  he  was  manifestly  the  victim  of 
incurable  disease,  which,  while  it  was  made  the  instrument 
of  invaluable  moral  discipline,  interfered  perpetually  with  his 
public  labors,  imposing  upon  him  long  and  repeated  intervals 
of  silence  and  inactivity.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  always  able, 
and  often  eloquent.  He  had  ever  a  perfect  comprehension 
of  his  subject,  which  he  discussed  in  a  method  equally  logical 
and  lucid,  and  in  a  transparent  style,  remarkable  for  grace 
and  purity.  Even  in  his  most  ordinary  performances,  the 
hearer  felt  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  powerful  intellect — 


DR.    O LIN'S     MARRIAGE.  115 


equal  to  any  task,  and  sanctified  without  reserve  to  the  Sav- 
ior's cause.  This  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  great  charm  of  his 
preaching  —  that  he  was  ever  deeply  penetrated,  and  abso- 
lutely pervaded  by  the  solemn  importance  of  his  theme,  and 
spoke  as  a  man  giving  utterance  to  no  doubtful  speculations 
of  his  own,  but  to  the  veritable  oracles  of  God.  Hence  it 
was  that  he  spoke  with  '  authority'  and  a  subduing  unction, 
which  all  were  constrained  to  feel — an  effect,  no  doubt,  en- 
hanced by  his  commanding  person,  dignified  mien,  and  grace- 
ful action.  ...  I  think  it  detracted  somewhat  from  the 
efficiency  of  his  pulpit  efforts  that  he  carried  with  him  to  this 
new  sphere  a  forensic,  rather  than  a  clerical  manner,  ac- 
quired at  the  bar  in  early  life.  This  unprofessional  air  sel- 
dom fails  of  winning  applause  ;  but  it  is  iisually  found  in 
practice  to  be  some  slight  drawback  upon  efficiency. 

"  He  was  for  some  time  president  of  Emory  College,  at 
Oxford,  Georgia,  and  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  that  now  flourishing  institution.  Ill  health,  how- 
ever, soon  compelled  him  to  withdraw  from  a  position  of  so 
much  responsibility  to  a  retirement  which,  I  think,  he  was 
never  able  to  leave  for  the  discharge  of  public  duties." 

On  the  18th  of  October,  1843,  Dr.  Olin  was  married 
to  Julia  M.  Lynch,  the  daughter  of  Judge  Lynch,  at 
GHenburn,  on  the  Hudson  River,  the  summer  residence 
of  the  family,  in  the  town  of  Rhinebeck  ;  "  entering," 
to  use  his  own  words,  "  upon  the  responsibilities  and 
cares  of  a  relation  which  God,  with  all  possible  ar- 
rangements within  the  scope  of  his  choice,  has  chosen 
as,  on  the  whole,  the  best  for  man,  the  best  for  time 
and  eternity — for  happiness  and  holiness."  The  few 
weeks  before  the  winter  vacation  were  spent  with  the 
family  of  Professor  Smith,  where  Dr.  Olin  had,  during 
his  residence  in  Middletown,  enjoyed  all  the  comforts 


116  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

of  a  home.  In  February  he  was  to  furnish  and  take 
possession  of  the  president's  house,  where  he  had  hith- 
erto occupied  only  a  study.  The  winter  vacation  of 
eight  weeks,  in  December  and  January,  were  spent  in 
New  York,  principally  in  forming  plans,  and  entering 
upon  a  series  of  systematic  efforts  in  behalf  of  the  uni- 
versity. 

Here  many  social  demands  were  made  upon  his  time, 
but  the  guests  invited  to  meet  him  were  cultivated,  in- 
tellectual people,  and  Christian  friends  and  brethren, 
with  whom  he  passed  quiet,  pleasant  hours.  On  one  of 
these  occasions  he  met  Margaret  Fuller,  whose  history 
proved  to  be  so  deep  a  tragedy.  In  conversing  with  him 
she  spoke  of  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment,  of  which 
she  doubted  ;  and  she  asked  him  if  we  did  not  proba- 
bly attach  a  greater  weight  of  meaning  to  the  declara- 
tions of  Scripture  on  that  subject  than  they  were  in- 
tended to  convey,  adding,  that  fear  of  the  threatened 
ill  might  deter  many  from  the  commission  of  crime. 
He  quietly  answered,  that  he  was  old-fashioned  enough 
to  believe  that  the  Bible  meant  what  it  said.  Had 
he  known,  said  a  lady,  to  whom  Dr.  Olin  had  men- 
tioned this  interview,  the  sore  need  of  her  spirit — her 
longings  after  a  satisfying  portion — her  struggles  of 
mind  and  heart — he  might,  by  revealing  his  clear, 
broad  views  of  truth  and  duty,  have  made  an  era  in 
her  life ;  he  might  have  led  her  to  the  "  leaning-place 
for  her  weary  heart."  But  with  his  distaste  for  ambi- 
tious conversation,  and  with  his  impression  that  Mar- 
garet Fuller  was  a  complacent,  self-sufficing  woman  of 
genius,  scanning  holy  mysteries  with  a  philosophic  and 
not  a  reverent  eye,  he  did  not  enter  upon  themes  upon 


A    WORD    IN     SEASON.  117 

which  he  never  spoke  but  from  the  depths  of  his  spirit ; 
and  the  word  she  may  have  waited  for  never  came. 

He  writes,  on  one  occasion,  after  traveling  with  a 
lady  of  a  very  different  order  of  intellect  from  Margaret 
Fuller,  hut  one  who  "  had  her  opinions,  and  was  ready 
to  utter  them:"  "I  have  found  her  quite  agreeable, 
and  yet  I  always  find  something  to  regret  after  being 
long  in  such  company.  I  have  talked  too  much  non- 
sense. I  try  to  throw  off  care.  There  is  not  much 
community  of  topics.  I  would  not  startle  and  alarm 
by  too  much  seriousness,  but  I  always  try  to  leave 
something  that  shall  make  right  impressions.  In  the 
end,  I  am  dissatisfied  with  myself,  without  perceiving 
exactly  where  my  error  lies,  or  how  to  do  better  next 
time.  Oh  !  for  wisdom,  for  devotion  to  the  highest  in- 
terest of  our  associates,  for  an  ever-present,  controlling 
sense  of  eternal  things  !" 

At  the  opening  of  the  college  term,  the  Sound  being 
frozen  by  the  unusual  and  intense  cold  of  that  winter, 
Dr.  Olin  went  on  by  land  to  Middletown,  leaving  his 
wife  in  New  York  till  the  navigation  of  the  Sound 
should  be  practicable.  The  Sunday  after  his  arrival, 
he  preached  on  "  Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday,  to- 
day, and  forever."  "  Let  me  ask  you,"  writes  Mrs. 

to  Mrs.  Olin,  "what  has  become  of  that  most  beautiful 
sermon  which  he  preached  on  February  4th,  1844.  I 
have  not  found  it  in  the  published  volumes.  The  text 
was  Hebrews,  xiii.,  8.  To  me  it  was  one  of  his  most 
impressive  sermons.  The  evening  after  he  spent  with 
me,  and  remarked,  in  answer  to  an  observation  of  mine, 
'  You  are  right  in  the  main ;  but  every  thing  goes  on 
by  excitement.  You  are  unmoved  by  what,  to  a  coarser 


118  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

and  less  enlightened  mind,  would  be  stimulating  and 
affecting.  You  are  deeply  stirred,  however,  by  clear, 
luminous,  lofty  expositions  of  scriptural  truth;  your 
zeal  is  awakened — you  are  impelled  onward  in  the 
course  of  duty.  It  is  the  same  impulse,  thus  imparted 
to  you  by  another,  that  carries  you  onward  in  the  same 
manner  that  the  Christian  of  less  refined  mind  is  pro- 
pelled in  his  spiritual  career.'  On  the  5th  he  took  tea 
with  us,  and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  getting  home. 
That  evening  you  arrived,  and  you  remember  our  hap- 
py meeting  in  your  new  home."  There  were  bright 
smiles  and  cheerful  greetings  from  near  friends  that 
evening  in  the  half-furnished  president's  house,  with 
its  prophecies  of  home  comforts  for  coming  years. 
Three  days  after,  Dr.  Olin  was  obliged  to  leave  it  for  a 
month's  toil  in  New  York,  to  promote  the  interests  of 
the  university.  "It  is  certainly  an  ominous  begin- 
ning this,"  he  writes  to  his  wife;  "but  the  future  may 
treat  us  better.  Heaven  at  least  will,  to  which  it  be- 
comes us  to  direct  our  chief  attention."  The  emotions 
with  which  he  consecrated  his  new  home  found  expres- 
sion in  the  following  letter  to  his  wife  : 

"  God  only  knows  what  the  future  has  in  reserve  for  us, 
and  I  never  in  my  life  committed  its  interests  more  unreserv- 
edly to  His  control.  Yet  I  venture  to  anticipate  a  lot  not 
peculiarly  marked  with  disaster  and  suffering — a  destiny  as 
tolerable  as  belongs  to  sinful,  fallible  beings  in  a  world  of 
probation  and  progress.  And  this  will  be  good  enough.  We 
need  toil,  and  trial,  and  disappointment,  and  suffering ;  for 
we  need  moral  training,  which  they  are  the  predestined  in- 
struments for  imparting.  These  conditions,  under  which  we 
are  called  to  work  out  our  salvation,  I  would  by  no  means 


GOOD     COUNSELS.  119 


modify.  And  I  want  no  guarantee  in  regard  to  coming  ex- 
igences ;  for  the  hand  of  God  holds  the  issue,  and  He  is  our 
friend.  The  future  is  God's,  as  the  past  has  been.  His  prov- 
idence, His  promises,  His  grace,  are  its  inheritance  in  all  time 
to  come.  I  trust  I  arn  ready — I  believe  you  are  ready  to 
meet  the  allotments  of  Providence  cheerfully  and  thankfully, 
and  they  are  to  be  in  our  case,  no  doubt,  various,  disciplinary, 
dark,  painful ;  for  such  is  the  common  lot — such  the  genius 
of  our  religion.  Making  all  allowance  for  vicissitudes,  and 
invoking  religion  as  the  only  and  sufficient  antidote  for  these 
seeming  evils,  we  may  yet  anticipate  much  happiness  in  the 
career  on  which  we  have  entered.  Mutual  love,  and  respect, 
and  confidence  are  so  many  living  sources  of  enjoyment — a 
peaceful,  pure  home,  where  we  shall  see  enough  of  the  world, 
and  yet  can  afford  to  do  without  it.  What  better  arena  for 
the  culture  or  the  manifestation  of  cherished  virtues  ?  And 
then  our  daily  pursuits  will  be  useful,  improving,  sanctifying. 
We  may  do  good  not  merely  as  we  have  opportunity.  Our 
vocation — our  course  of  life,  if  we  order  it  aright,  must  con- 
stitute one  constant  opportunity  for  promoting  great  inter- 
ests." 

Again  he  writes : 

"  You  seem  to  have  your  hands  quite  full  of  visiting.  The 
good  people  mean  to  make  you  feel  at  home.  I  hope  you  will 
have  years  of  enjoyment  in  that  fine  community  ;  especially, 
I  trust  that  our  relations  with  our  colleagues  may  be  ever 
kindly.  Much  of  our  happiness,  and,  what  is  more,  much 
of  our  usefulness,  depends  upon  this.  I  have  always  thought 
that  what  we  chiefly  lack  in  our  intercourse  is  the  infusion  of 
more  religion.  We  must  pray  more  together,  must  sympathize 
more  perfectly  in  good  aspirations  and  works.  We  must  not 
lose  sight  of  our  plan  for  social,  religious  meetings.  I  cherish 
this  as  a  blessing  in  reserve.  You  must  not  fear  them.  Aft- 
er some  use,  I  am  sure  you  will  both  enjoy  these  meetings 


120  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

and  find  them  useful.  I  trust  that  you  habituate  yourself  to 
think  of  your  new  relation  to  society  as  a  minister's  wife — 
that  you  are  more  called  on  than  others,  or  ever,  to  do  good 
by  example  and  by  direct  effort.  You  may  find  this  an  in- 
convenient responsibility,  but  I  trust  it  will  also  be  a  useful 
one.  If  rightly  improved,  I  think  this  relation  to  society  en- 
ables a  lady  to  be  useful,  perhaps  above  any  other.  I  have 
the  best  hopes  of  you  in  this  and  all  other  respects.  The  new 
cares  which  will  fall  to  your  lot  will  come  in  the  guise  of  du- 
ties, and  duties  you  know  are  the  means  and  handmaids  of 
happiness.  For  myself,  I  delight  to  think  of  the  future.  I 
see  with  no  blinded  eye.  It  is  clad  in  cares,  and  responsibil- 
ities, and  toil  ;  yet  it  opens  a  field  for  action,  for  usefulness, 
for  holiness,  for  happiness.  Doubtless,  God  will  smile  on  us 
if  we  continue  to  trust  him.  I  think  we  shall  serve  God  to- 
gether better  than  we  could  asunder.  I  dwell  not  chiefly  on 
earthly  pleasures.  I  think  of  our  morning  and  evening  pray- 
ers at  the  domestic  altar — of  a  loving,  confiding  watchful- 
ness over  each  other — of  being  mutual  intercessors  in  the 
closet — of  sympathies  and  counsels  in  plans  and  efforts  to  do 
good.  Indeed,  I  think  I  shall  begin  from  this  time  to  lead  a 
more  holy  life.  I  feel  that  I  am  living  for  you  as  well  as  for 
myself,  and  you  are  on  my  heart  when  I  go  to  the  throne  of 
grace." 

Dr.  Olin's  anxious  labors  in  New  York  bore  with  no 
light  pressure  on  his  returning  strength.  Four  or  five 
sermons  every  week,  followed  by  addresses,  stating  the 
wants  and  claims  of  the  university — and  these  appeals, 
made  in  the  evening,  and  insuring  late  hours  and  wake- 
ful nights — heavily  taxed  the  powers  of  a  nervous  man, 
who  had  scarcely  been  able  to  preach  or  attend  an  even- 
ing meeting  for  fifteen  years.  It  was  a  remark  of 
Bishop  Janes,  "that  Dr.  Olin's  pulpit  efforts  helped  to 
destroy  him — that  he  could  not  content  himself  with 


SERMON     IN     THE     COLLEGE     CHAPEL.         121 

beginning  his  sermon  in  a  didactic  form,  and  reserving 
the  strength  of  argument  and  exhortation  to  the  close, 
but  that  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  there  was  an 
expenditure  of  thought  and  feeling  that  no  constitution 
could  long  endure." 

He  returned  to  Middletown  the  beginning  of  March, 
prepared  to  enjoy  a  few  weeks  of  rest  and  home.  "  On 
the  8th  of  March,"  writes  the  wife  of  one  of  the  pro- 
fessors to  Mrs.  Olin,  "  I  have  a  little  entry  in  my  journal 
of  a  call  upon  you.  The  paper  announced,  while  I  was 
there,  the  appointment  of  Calhoun  as  Secretary  of  State. 
The  doctor  rejoiced  in  it,  particularly  because  he 
thought  the  appointment  would  have  a  tendency  to 
quell  the  disturbance  on  the  Oregon  question.  He 
feared  '  some  whiffler  would  have  been  chosen,  who, 
having  nothing  to  lose,  would  not  mind  hazarding  a 
war.'  Then  he  laughed  at  you  about  your  little  or- 
naments on  the  table,  &c.,  and  feared  they  would  in- 
jure the  feelings  of  some  plain  brother.  On  the  17th 
of  March  I  heard  him  preach  in  the  college  chapel,  on 
a  very  rainy  Sunday,  a  sermon  upon  grieving  the  Spirit, 
which  I  certainly  thought  was  among  his  very  finest 
sermons.  I  am  sorry  to  see  such  scanty  memoranda 
of  it.  There  was  a  forcible  illustration  about  Balaam's 
urging  God  to  let  him  have  his  own  way  until  Grod  al- 
lowed it,  which  is  not  in  the  printed  notes.  The  notes 
of  his  sermon  upon  Prayer,  too,  '  I  will,  therefore,  that 
men  pray  every  where,  lifting  up  holy  hands  without 
wrath  and  doubting,'  give  a  very  inadequate  idea  of 
its  great  richness  and  power." 

On  the  21st  of  March  he  went  to  Boston,  to  invite 
the  co-operation  of  the  Churches  there  in  his  enterprise. 

F 


122  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

He  made  a  noble  beginning  in  Brorafield-street  Church, 
where  more  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
were  subscribed  at  that  time,  a  sum  subsequently  in- 
creased by  a  member  of  that  church  to  twelve  thousand 
dollars.  "  On  the  whole,"  he  writes,  "  I  see  nothing 
to  discourage,  though  much  to  wear  one  out  in  this  ar- 
duous enterprise  of  endowing  the  university.  I  am 
fairly  committed  to  the  work,  providentially  and  actu- 
aljy.  I  must  not  faint  if  strength  is  given  to  me  from 
above.  If  my  health  lasts,  I  believe  the  work  will  be 
done.  My  trust  is  in  Grod,  who  has  spared  me,  perhaps, 
for  this  special  service.  I  am  ready  to  toil  at  this 
most  distasteful  vocation  if  His  will  be  so.  I  do  not 
know  how  to  be  away  from  the  institution.  I  offer 
many  prayers  for  it.  I  am  glad  to  find  that  I  can  leave 
home,  with  its  manifold  strong  attractions,  because  it 
is  my  duty." 

On  the  28th  of  March,  he  writes  :  "  I  attended  last 
night  a  levee  or  tea-party,  given  by  the  Rev.  E.  Tay- 
lor, of  the  Mariners'  Church,  at  the  Tremont  Temple. 
We  were  three  hours  in  a  terribly  hot  room,  and  I  was 
not  disappointed  in  getting  only  an  hour's  sleep.  I  was 
pretty  much  compelled  to  make  some  off-hand  remarks, 
about  ten  o'clock,  in  my  usual  over-heated  style.  I  am 
afraid  they  had  the  appearance  of  being  claptrap,  though 
not  so  intended.  I  have  concluded  that  I  must  give 
myself  to  these  improvisations  when  there  is  a  call  for 
it.  It  savors  too  much  of  selfishness  to  refuse  for  want 
of  preparation.  By  going  off  extempore,  I  may  some- 
times make  a  hit  and  sometimes  a  flat,  but  I  shall  do 
my  duty,  trying  to  do  it  in  all  simplicity." 

During  his  stay  in  Boston  he  found  a  most  agreeable 


EFFORTS    IN    BOSTON.  123 

home  in  the  kind  family  of  his  friend,  Colonel  Brod- 
head,  the  son  of  the  Rev.  John  Brodhead,  a  name  fra- 
grant in  the  annals  of  New  England  Methodism.  The 
evening  after  the  levee  in  the  Tremont  Temple,  he 
preached  in  the  Methodist  church  in  Russell  Street. 
The  evening  was  rainy,  and  he  increased  a  cold  which 
he  had  previously  taken.  The  east  winds  of  Boston 
were  peculiarly  trying  to  him ;  and,  after  waiting  a 
few  days,  with  the  hope  of  throwing  off  this  attack 
of  influenza,  and  regaining  strength  to  prosecute  his 
mission,  he  was  obliged  to  return  home  with  his  work 
but  half  done.  There,  for  a  month  of  illness,  he  suffer- 
ed from  the  effects  of  a  month  of  overdoing. 

Letters  ivritten  in  1843  and  1844. 

LXXXIII.  TO  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  M.  WIGHTMAN. 

Middletown,  March  8th,  1843. 

But  for  the  fact  that  you  address  me  a  very  interesting 
epistle  weekly,  I  might  preface  this  with  reminding'  you  that 
you  forgot  to  answer  the  letter  which  I  wrote  you  some  months 
since.  Your  Advocate  is  to  me  instead  of  epistles  from  many 
Southern  friends  ;  still,  I  would  have  more  special  communi- 
cations from  you  for  many  good  reasons,  and  among  them, 
because  you  tell  of  precisely  such  things  as  I  do  not  get  by  the 
paper,  and  yet  feel  much  interested  to  hear.  This,  besides 
some  reasons  growing  out  of  my  old  recollections,  long  and 
still  warm  personal  attachments,  will  perhaps  make  me  a 
little  out  of  humor  if  you  quite  dishonor  the  custom  you  used 
to  follow  of  writing  to  me  especially  once  or  twice  in  the  year 
at  least. 

I  greatly  rejoice  in  your  religious  prosperity,  both  in  Car- 
olina and  Georgia.  It  is  wonderful  to  contemplate  the  man- 
ifestations of  God's  goodness,  especially  within  the  bounds  of 


124  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

our  vastly  extended  work.  I  rejoice,  if  any  thing,  yet  more 
at  the  noble  stand  you  have  taken  in  the  missionary  cause. 
The  only  drawback  upon  our  general  and  unexampled  pros- 
perity I  have  felt  to  be  the  decline — the  decline,  too,  when 
a  great  advance  was  most  needed,  and  most  naturally  ex- 
pected— in  our  missionary  operations.  A  million  of  mem- 
bers, a  hundred  thousand  converts,  a  falling  off  in  missions, 
and  an  income  of  less  than  $100,000  !*  The  thing  is 
humiliating  and  ominous.  If  our  adversaries  would  leave 
off  railing  about  our  Church  polity,  our  doctrines,  &c.,  and 
take  us  to  task  on  the  ground  of  great  unfaithfulness  to  the 
missionary  cause,  I  know  not  what  we  could  answer.  The 
cry  of  hard  times  is  really  rather  a  pretext  than  any  thing 
else,  considering  the  small  sums  in  which  these  offerings  are 
made.  We  should  not  hesitate  to  brand  men  as  rogues  who 
declined  paying  debts  of  no  greater  magnitude  on  the  same 
plea.  It  pains  me  to  say  that  I  believe  the  chief  fault  to  be 
in  the  ministry,  who,  by  trying,  could  get  such  a  pittance 
from  our  people  for  any  object  in  which  they  might  please  to 
interest  themselves.  The  obligation  is  too  little  felt — per- 
haps it  is  too  little  understood.  From  all  I  can  discover,  the 
missionary  spirit  is  positively  declining  in  our  Church.  I 
feel  confident  that  we  can  not  proceed  much  further  in  this  di- 
rection with  impunity.  Either  God  will  stay  our  career  of 
progress  and  success,  or  we  shall  become  more  bloated  and 
unwieldy — worse  in  spirit  and  in  tendency  by  our  growth  in 
numbers.  I  am  tied  to  my  providential  vocation,  but  I  often 
feel  a  desire  to  go  from  town  to  town  to  toil  in  the  cause.  I 
know  I  could  do  less  than  others,  and  have  no  strength  or 
talent  for  the  work,  but  my  spirit  is  often  painfully  stirred 
within  me.f  May  God  have  mercy  upon  us,  and  not  allow 

*  The  income  has  now  nearly  doubled. 

t  Early  in  the  year  of  1848,  one  of  the  leading  men  in  the  Church  . 
wrote  to  him :  "  The  missionary  secretaryship  is,  or  ought  to  be, 
the  paramount   interest  of  the  Church,  and  should  command  the 


PLANS  FOR  THE  SUMMER.         125 

us  to  slight  and  abuse  his  grace.  Ours  is,  indeed,  a  glorious 
system  of  truth,  and  a  mighty  scheme  of  working  ;  but  what 
it  may  become  if  the  Spirit  depart  arid  leave  us  to  the^un- 
speakable  curse  of  formalities  and  dead  dogmas,  I  tremble  to 
guess. 

LXXXIV.  TO  MISS  CLARINDA  OLIN. 

Middletown,  March  22d,  1843. 

I  intended  to  answer  your  letter  some  weeks  since,  but 
have  been  busy  with  other  matters,  with  which,  however 
willing,  it  is  not  always  in  my  power  to  dispense.  In  truth, 
the  kind  of  life  in  which  I  am  now  engaged  is  a  very  busy 
one,  leaving  me  few  hours  that  I  can  call  my  own,  though  I 
can  not  say  that  I  do  any  thing  of  much  importance  ;  and  I 
have  an  habitual  feeling  that  I  am  doing  but  little,  and  noth- 
ing with  good  effect.  Do  not  infer  from  this  strain  that  I 
am  discontented.  I  am  far  from  it,  and  only  feel  a  strong 
desire  to  work  more  than  I  am  able  at  present.  Especially 
do  I  feel  the  want  of  strength  to  engage  more  in  social  meet- 
ings, which  are  just  now  very  interesting.  I  do  not  venture 
to  go  near  them,  and  I  seldom  go  to  church  above  once  on 
Sunday,  though  I  ventured  twice  the  last  two  Sabbaths. 

.  I  am  as  well,  upon  the  whole,  as  my  most  sanguine 
hopes  have  at  any  time  flattered  me  to  expect.  You  and 
other  friends  who  have  not  seen  me  since  last  summer,  would, 
I  think,  be  a  little  surprised  at  my  increase  of  flesh  and  grow- 
ing ruddiness  of  complexion. 

My  plan  of  operations  for  this  summer,  if  carried  out,  will 
call  for  a  good  deal  of  extra  exertion.  I  design,  God  willing, 
to  visit  the  New  York,  Troy,  Providence,  New  England,  Black 

strongest  laborer  in  the  Church.  If  the  interests  at  Middletown  can 
be  secured  properly,  I  think  that  the  field  would  suit  you  better,  and 
I  know  that  you  have  the  right  spirit  and  views  for  the  work.  Rich- 
ard Watson  made  the  Wesleyan  missionary  spirit  in  England.  You 
could  do  it  for  us  here." 


126  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

River,  and  Oneida  Conferences — all,  as  you  will  infer,  with  a 
hope  of  promoting  the  interest  of  the  university.  This  has 
become  my  chief  care.  I  fear  it  is  fast  becoming  an  engross- 
ing concern  with  me,  and  could  I  have  health  and  influence 
to  promote  this  high  interest  to  the  extent  of  a  sufficient  en- 
dowment, and  the  establishment  of  a  theological  department, 
I  think  I  could  be  quite  satisfied.  The  times  are  as  little  fa- 
vorable as  possible  to  such  enterprises,  and  yet  it  is  neither 
prudent  nor  possible  to  postpone  the  attempt.  It  is  precisely 
the  work  that  I  am  least  fit  to  engage  in,  and  yet  I  do  not 
see  that  it  is  likely  to  be  done  without  me.  So  we  are  car- 
ried along — not  always  or  often  as  we  choose,  but  as  the  great 
Ruler  "  shapes  our  ends."  Still,  the  great  object  of  life  will 
be  perfectly  attained  if  He  shall  direct  us. 

LXXXV.  TO  THE  REV.  STEPHEN  OLIN. 

Oxford,  Georgia,  April  3d,  1843. 

In  common  with  the  Church  and  your  numerous  personal 
friends,  I  praise  God  for  his  manifold  goodness  to  you,  in  that 
He  has  heard  the  many  prayers  which  have  gone  up  from 
thousands  of  warm  hearts  to  heaven  in  your  behalf;  that  the 
clouds  which  have  so  long  darkened  your  sky  have  been  at 
least  in  part  removed,  and  that  you  are  so  far  restored  to 
health  as  to  return  to  your  beloved  work  of  publishing  the  un- 
searchable riches  of  Christ  to  your  dying  fellow-men.  I  re- 
joice with  you,  brother  beloved,  in  this  blessed  change  in  your 
circumstances,  and  you  will  take  it  in  good  part  if  an  old 
friend,  who  is  not  altogether  a  stranger  to  your  previous  hab- 
its, should  say,  Be  not  too  prodigal  of  this  returning  strength  ; 
be  a  little  economical  of  it — remember  it  is  no  very  difficult 
matter  to  put  you  on  your  back,  but  not  so  easy  to  raise  you 
again  to  your  feet.  But  enough  of  that,  I  trust  that  you  are 
permanently  restored  to  health,  and  to  a  long  and  successful 
career  of  enlarged  and  constantly  increasing  usefulness  to  the 
Church  and  to  the  world.  God  has  no  doubt  been  teaching 


SALUTARY    DISCIPLINE.  127 

you  in  a  school  better  than  all  others  for  showing  us  the 
plague  of  our  own  hearts,  and  bringing  us  to  a  full  and  unfal- 
tering reliance  on  the  blood  of  atonement,  the  intercessions  of 
our  glorious  High-priest,  and  the  immutable  stability  of  the 
word  of  God's  promise  to  us  in  Christ  Jesus.  You  have 
doubtless  learned,  during  the  long  time  that  you  have  been  in 
the  furnace,  many  invaluable  lessons,  which  would  not  be  so 
thoroughly  learned  any  where  else  ;  and  now  that  God  seems 
to  be  restoring  you  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  how  invalu- 
able will  be  the  experiences  of  the  hours  of  darkness  and  sor- 
row through  which  God  has  been  leading  you.  It  is  thus  that 
God  often  prepares  those  whom  he  designs  to  call  to  special 
usefulness  in  his  Church.  God  Almighty  bless  you,  my  dear 
brother.  May  God  give  you  long  life,  and  usefulness  in- 
creased a  thousand-fold Believe  me,  as  ever, 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

JAMES  0.  ANDREW. 

LXXXVI.  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  . 

Middletown,  April  17th,  1843. 

A  distinguished  British  statesman  said,  "Let  me  make  the 
ballads  of  a  nation,  and  I  care  not  who  makes  its  laws." 
Somebody  else  says,  people  must  needs  come  to  believe  what 
they  often  hear.  I  am  left  to  suppose  that  it  is  in  virtue  of 
some  old  saw  of  this  sort  that  Abolitionists  are  ever  giving 
line  upon  line — repeating  the  dose — driving  through  our 
skulls  what  we  won't  let  in  through  our  ears.  In  conclusion, 
I  rank  you  with  heroes  in  further  illustrating  your  reitera- 
tions by  the  example  of  the  great  Cato,  who  ended  all  his 
speeches  by  saying,  "  Carthage  must  be  destroyed!"  I  al- 
most hear  you  say,  "  You  are  erudite,  doctor — a  little  pe- 
dantic withal."  Never  heed  that ;  I  am  in  a  good  humor, 
though  I  am  so  unceremoniously  fumbling  about  one  of  your 
foibles.  And  now,  my  dear  friend,  I  say  in  sober  earnest, 
may  you  live  long  and  happily — to  see  your  great  grandchil- 


128  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

dren  thrive  in  the  world — till  the  39th  (is  it  the  39th  ?)  rule 
is  abolished — till  Abby  Kelly  has  her  rights — till  all  black 
and  colored  men  shall  be  as  free  as  their  masters — till  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  shall  be  as  pure  as  the  new  con- 
cern at  Lowell.  Oh  !  that  all  of  this  glory  even  now  rested 
upon  us.  How  cheerfully  then  could  we  go  about  our  Mas- 
ter's work,  with  no  let  or  clog — united,  loving,  &c.  I  must 
not  be  a  deceiver,  a  holder  forth  of  false  hopes.  So  I  freely 
declare  that  I  do  not  look  for  all  this  good  in  our  day,  and  so 
I  conclude  to  snatch  a  little  in  advance,  by  "  leaving  the  dead 
to  bury  their  dead,"  and  following  the  Master;  by  loving  both 
and  all  parties — by  trying  to  convert  those  who  wear  a  yoke — 
by  trusting  in  God  more  than  in  elections — by  following  peace 
with  all  men,  &c. 

If  I  did  not  love  you,  and  have  great  confidence  in  the 
goodness  both  of  your  head  and  heart,  I  should  burn  all  this, 
and  start  anew. 

/ 

LXXXVII.  TO  THE  SAME. 

Wesleyan  University,  April  27th,  1843. 
You  speak  blindly  of  grave  matters  on  the  car- 
pet. I  should  be  more  alarmed  than  I  am,  but  that  I  recol- 
lect you  are  a  little  addicted  to  direct  heavy  artillery  against 
"  small  specks"  of  war.  I  shall  be  able  very  fully  to  partici- 
pate with  you  in  regret  and  mortification  at  any  dereliction 
of  purity  or  propriety  in  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  How 
strange,  that  men  set  apart  for  the  holiest  pursuits  should  not 
be  able  to  rise  above  the  lowest  tendencies.  Selfishness — 
management — undermining  detraction  among  embassadors 
of  Christ : — how  humiliating  the  spectacle!  how  baleful 
the  influence  upon  the  cause  in  which  they  labor  and  pro- 
fess to  have  sacrificed  more  than  self !  I  can  truly  say  that 
there  is  no  evil  into  which  I  should  so  reluctantly  fall ;  and 
yet  far  better  men  than  I  have  not  always  escaped  the  snare. 
May  God,  in  His  mercy,  preserve  us,  my  dear  brother,  from 


TOWN    AND    COUNTRY     LIFE.  129 

such  a  grievous  fault.  I  hope  to  keep  aloof  from  all  ambi- 
tious aspirations,  and  so  from  the  liabilities  which  they  in- 
volve. Oh  !  if  we  could  be  content  to  preach  Christ,  and 
leave  self-seeking  and  party  strife  to  others — the  dead  to 
bury  their  dead — what  a  glorious  impulse  would  be  given  to 
the  cause  of  piety !  what  new  energies  would  be  released 
from  low  pursuits  to  honor  the  Master  ! 

LXXXVIII.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON. 

Middletown,  May  2d,  1843. 

I  feel  some  reluctance  to  interrupt  the  quiet 
tenor  of  my  life  here  by  plunging  into  the  bustle  of  New 
York,  though  I  can  not  say  that  I  have  any  very  special  taste 
or  liking  for  seclusion.  I  rather  prefer,  and  that  very  de- 
cidedly, the  quicker  circulation  and  more  stirring  thoughts 
and  incidents  of  the  crowd.  Indeed,  if  I  had  firm  health,  I 
believe  I  should  be  content  to  dwell  in  the  midst  of  excite- 
ments, assemblies,  parties,  controversies,  where  all  sorts  of 
things  come  up  in  review,  and  claim  to  be  discussed  or  done. 
One  has  so  many  more  and  more  powerful  impulses — the  re- 
sources of  thought,  of  feeling,  and  purpose  are  so  greatly  mul- 
tiplied, that  a  man  of  the  right  stamp  lives  to  more  effect,  is 
really  wiser  and  greater  every  way,  in  the  city  than  in  the 
country.  But  this  rapid  whirl  of  the  machinery  of  life  soon 
wears  me  out,  and  I  slink  away  to  my  hiding-place  with  my 
gear  out  of  repair.  .  .  .  In  a  month  or  two,  one  gets  not 
only  rested,  but  wearied  with  the  means  used  to  secure  rest. 
Every  day  is  just  like  the  rest.  We  get  up,  eat,  sleep,  go 
from  the  dwelling  to  the  study — to  the  chapel,  &c.,  by  the 
sound  of  the  bell.  It  is  fortunate  for  me  that  the  small  num- 
ber of  faces  which  I  am  destined  to  meet  with  so  often  are 
all  kind  and  intelligent  faces.  They  belong  to  dear  friends, 
who  love  to  contribute  to  my  happiness  in  all  practicable 
ways,  who  are  interested  in  my  reputation  and  success,  and 
who,  I  quite  believe,  sincerely  like  rne,  as  I  most  certainly  do 
F2 


130  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

them.  Upon  the  whole,  my  situation  is  a  very  desirable 
one.  I  like  it  chiefly  because  I  think  it  providential.  I 
could  hardly  wish  that  the  institution  were  in  a  better  condi- 
tion as  to  good  order  and  attention  to  study,  or  that  the  Fac- 
ulty were  more  harmonious  and  obliging. 

LXXXIX.  TO  THE  REV.  STEPHEN  OLIN. 
Clarkesville,  Habersham  county,  Georgia,  June,  1843. 

I  am  very  anxious  to  hear  from  you  directly 
once  more  before  I  leave  a  tenement  for  which  my  lease 
seems  nearly  to  have  expired.  It  would  afford  me  a  pleas- 
ure, which  few  other  things  which  can  now  occur  would,  to 
have  one  more  conversation  with  you  personally,  and,  next 
to  that,  to  receive  a  letter  from  you.  Not  for  the  reason 
which  might  induce  many  others  to  seek  for  an  epistolary 
intercourse  with  you — not  to  obtain  any  reflection  of  that 
light  of  distinction  which  the  world  is  shedding  on  you,  nor 
even  to  participate  of  that  intellectual  wealth  which  experi- 
ence and  enlarged  opportunities  have  enabled  you  to  accu- 
mulate since  we  last  met.  Sincerely  as  I  rejoice  in  them  on 
your  behalf,  to  me  they  can  scarcely  in  any  other  way  be 
beneficial ;  but  I  would  seek  that  communion  of  spirit,  that 
frank  interchange  of  thought  and  expression  of  feeling  which 
characterized  our  religious  intercourse,  and  made  it  both 
profitable  and  pleasant  to  me.  May  I  say  that  it  was  the 
most  unreserved  I  ever  enjoyed  with  any  man,  except  a  few 
poor  and  ignorant,  but  deeply  pious  people,  whom  I  have 
known  ?  Some  persons  would  wonder  at  the  exception,  but 
I  will  not  dishonor  your  religious  philosophy  by  giving  any 
explanation.  If  I  could  find  a  man  who  was  trying  to  love 
God  with  all  his  heart,  soul,  mind,  and  strength,  I  would 
rather  sit  at  his  feet  to  receive  instruction  than  in  the  acad- 
emy where  Plato  lectured,  or  even  in  the  church  where  Wes- 
ley preached — not  because  I  doubt  whether  the  last  was  of 
that  number.  Nor  do  I  doubt  that  many  who  are  accessi- 


CHRISTIAN     FRIENDSHIP.  131 

ble  to  me  may  be,  but  you  will  acknowledge  that  the  religious 
sympathies  which  would  establish  our  communion  with  such 
an  one  must  rest  upon  something  more  than  mere  speculative 
reasoning  or  outward  conformities  ;  in  other  words,  upon  con- 
viction, which  depends  something  upon  feeling  as  well  as  ra- 
tional evidence.  Now  I  do  not  seek  for  what  I  suppose  to 
be  very  rare  among  the  professed  disciples  of  Christ,  but  for 
such  an  intimacy  of  intercourse  and  such  a  mutual  confidence 
as  would  make  available  to  me  the  spiritual  treasures  of  a 
soul  simplified  and  exalted  in  its  religious  affections  by  the 
unity  and  excellence  of  its  object. 

I  ought  now,  surely,  to  think  that  I  have  nothing  further 
to  do  with  the  inferior  objects  of  life.  If  the  kind  chastise- 
ments of  my  heavenly  Father  had  not  heretofore  produced 
that  conviction,  my  last  attack  would  leave  me  without  pre- 
text for  hesitancy.  Six  months  since  I  threw  up  five  quarts, 
or  ten  pounds,  of  pure  arterial  blood  from  my  lungs  in  four 
days,  and,  during  the  same  period,  lost  an  equal  quantity  from 
the  arm.  It  was  wonderful  that  I  lived  one  hour.  It  is  a 
miracle  of  mercy  that  I  still  live  ;  but  without  another  mira- 
cle, I  can  not  survive  much  longer.  My  debility  is  now  such 
that  I  can  not  walk  twenty  feet  quickly  without  being  ex- 
hausted and  out  of  breath.  Still,  I  walk  and  ride  a  little  ev- 
ery day ;  but  the  effect  of  extensive  adhesions  or  dropsy  will 
probably  finish  the  work  before  long. 

I  am  among  the  mountains  here,  enjoying  a  scenery  which, 
for  magnificence  and  variety  of  light  and  shade,  for  a  blend- 
ing of  softness  and  grace  in  color  and  outline,  with  stern,  cold, 
and  severe  majesty,  could  scarcely  be  surpassed  ;  in  a  cli- 
mate unrivaled,  so  far  as  I  know,  from  scientific  observation 
or  personal  information,  for  equability  of  temperature  and  a 
sanative  constitution  of  the  atmosphere,  enjoying  the  hospi- 
tality and  brotherly  care  of  one  of  the  few  friends  of  my  boy- 
hood which  death  and  the  vicissitudes  of  life  have  left  to  me 


132  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

— Robert  C ,  of  Augusta,  whom  you  may  remember  to 

have  seen  with  me  at  the  Madison  Springs  in  1826.  He  is 
a  native  of  Ireland,  who  came  to  this  country  when  he  was 
fifteen  years  of  age.  We  became  acquainted  in  1802,  when 
I  was  twelve  years  old,  and  an  unbroken  friendship  has  sub- 
sisted from  that  time  between  us.  He  is,  and  ever  has  been, 
a  noble,  magnanimous-tempered  man,  ready  (as  he  has  prov- 
en, in  a  measure)  to  stand  up  for  the  oppressed,  like  Athana- 
sius  for  truth  "  against  the  world."  He  raised  about  the  only 
voice  heard  in  behalf  of  the  wronged  Cherokees,  and  memo- 
rialized our  Legislature  on  that  subject.  His  hand  has  been 
open  to  pour  out  the  treasures  which  the  Lord  has  endowed 
him  with,  to  relieve  any  who  were  distressed,  and  promote 
every  good  institution  or  laudable  object,  not  by  hundreds, 
but,  as  I  know,  by  thousands,  and  yet  he  would  "  blush  to 
find  it  fame."  For  many  years  after  my  own  conversion,  I 
knew  he  was  an  earnest  seeker  of  religion,  which  I  believed 
for  the  last  few  years  that  he  had  found.  He  did  not  connect 
himself  with  any  church  until  within  the  last  twelvemonth, 
when  he  became  a  Presbyterian ;  his  wife,  one  of  the  excel- 
lent of  the  earth,  is  a  pious  Episcopalian.  So  here  we  three 
are  living  together — Presbyterian,  Episcopalian,  and  Meth- 
odist— somewhat,  I  hope,  as  we  shall  live  together  in  heaven, 
where,  as  the  Gluaker  said,  there  are  neither  Gluakers,  Meth- 
odists, nor  Presbyterians,  but  only  Christians.  Is  not  this,  in 
some  measure,  apropos  to  the  subject  given  you  recently  be- 
fore the  Bible  Society  ?  He  came  for  me  some  distance  in 
his  carriage,  and  brought  my  niece  and  myself  to  his  house, 
to  watch  over  and  nurse  me.  Ought  I  not  to  be  thankful  ? 
and  have  I  not  some  apology  for  occupying  so  much  of  my 
letter  with  an  account  of  him  ?  I  hope  you  will  write  to  me 
soon.  Direct  your  letter  to  Athens,  Georgia,  as  all  my  letters 
will  be  forwarded  thence  to  my  transient  resting-places.  If 
I  live  to  receive  a  letter  from  you,  and  am  able  to  answer  it, 


CHRISTIAN     FELLOWSHIP.  133 


you  will  find  me  a  more  punctual  correspondent  than  I  for- 
merly was.* 

Affectionately  your  friend  and  brother  in  Christ, 

IGNATIUS  A.  FEW. 

*  A  little  more  than  two  years  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  Dr. 
Olin  was  much  affected  at  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  this  hon- 
ored friend,  accompanied  as  it  was  with  assurances  of  undiminished 
affection,  uttered  in  those  last  fading  hours  of  earth. 

"About  two  weeks  before  his  death,"  writes  the  Rev.  William  J. 
Parks,  "when  he  thought  he  was  dying,  he  said,  '  I  should  like  to  feel 
some  of  those  bright  and  heavenly  manifestations  now,  in  this  my  dy- 
ing hour,  which  many  of  God's  people  have  experienced,  but  thy  will 
be  done,  O  God.  If  I  am  to  die  with  what  I  now  feel,  a  firm  and  stead- 
fast faith  rather  than  such  displays  of  thy  grace,  so  let  it  be.  I  sub- 
mit. I  am  resigned  ;  for,  0  God,  even  this,  to  such  a  redeemed  sinner 
as  I  am,  is  mercy  beyond  expression.'  ....  He  then  made  a 
pause,  became  much  engaged  in  prayer  for  several  minutes,  and  pres- 
ently, with  joyful  countenance  and  uplifted  hands,  exclaimed,  '  Glory, 
glory !  it  is  mine  unexpectedly,  and  unworthy  as  I  am.'  He  then  spoke 
to  some  friends  who  were  present  in  terms  lofty  and  soul-stirring, 
after  which  he  exclaimed,  '  0  my  God !  if  I  had  to  preach  again,  rather 
than  stand  and  argue  with  sinners  in  the  pulpit  as  I  have  done,  I 
would  get  oh  my  knees  and  weep  over  them,  and  beg  them  to  come 
to  Christ.'  From  that  hour  of  ecstasy  until  his  death  he  was  favored 
with  no  more  such  bright  and  glorious  manifestations  ;  but  at  all 
times,  when  asked,  professed  to  have  an  unshaken  faith  in  God,  which, 
as  he  several  times  assured  me,  had  not  faltered  for  one  moment. 

"  He  desired  to  die  in  calm  thought,  with  no  noise  about  him.  God 
granted  his  innocent  desire.  He  was  reclining  in  a  large  arm-chair — 
all  was  calm,  serene  thought,  silent  prayer,  no  noise ;  death  was  doing 
its  work  on  a  great  and  good  man.  His  eyes  closed,  he  breathed 
softly  and  yet  more  softly,  until  all  ceased.  I  said,  '  He  is  gone !' 
Some  weeping  was  heard,  he  breathed  again,  and  made  a  slight  motion. 
I  said, '  Restrain  your  feelings,  if  you  can,  and  let  him  die  as  he  wish- 
ed.' He  breathed  softly  twice  or  thrice  more,  and  all  was  over.  His 
countenance  was  only  marred  by  the  paleness  of  death,  but  no  mus- 
cle distorted.  So  died  this  great  man,  at  half  past  seven  o'clock,  No- 
vember 21st,  1845." 


134  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


XC.  TO  . 

September  10th,  1843. 

Last  Sunday  I  preached  to  the  Genesee  Conference — a 
body  of  nearly  two  hundred  ministers.  It  was  a  season  of 
the  presence  of  God,  and  will  long  be  remembered  by  many 
who  were  present.  I  was  enabled  to  say  plain  things,  and 
the  hearts  of  the  people  were  open.  I  love  such  seasons. 
They  are  eras  in  my  past  life  on  which  I  look  back  and  thank 
God.  In  nothing  do  I  so  exult  as  in  this  work  of  the  min- 
istry— this  holding  up  Christ  as  the  one  object  of  faith,  and 
love,  and  admiration.  I  have  often  thought  that  I  would 
willingly  spend  six  days  of  every  week  in  a  cell — on  a  sick- 
bed, if  on  the  seventh  I  might  be  allowed  to  preach  Christ 
crucified.  It  is  not  merely  a  duty,  and  so  grateful  to  the 
conscience  in  the  discharge  of  it ;  it  is  always  a  joyful  sea- 
son— a  feast  to  my  own  feelings.  And  yet  I  am  not  likely 
to  do  much  of  this  work.  I  overdo,  and  can  not  avoid  it. 
Providence,  moreover,  calls  me  to  other  duties  less  pleasant ; 
but  it  may  be,  in  the  long  run,  not  less  useful. 

To-day  I  have  heard preach  an  excellent 

sermon  on  prayer.  I  thought,  at  the  close  of  it,  as  I  always 
think  when  I  hear  him,  that  he  is  the  best  preacher  I  know. 
I  always  feel  how  superior  he  is  to  me,  though  I  am  quite 
able  to  rejoice  in  it,  and  am  glad  to  sit  at  his  feet.  I  believe 
that  hearing  a  good  sermon  fatigues  me  even  more  than 
preaching.  I  am  too  excitable.  My  feelings  enter  too  deep- 
ly into  religious  exercises  to  allow  me  to  continue  them  long. 
This  is  true  both  of  public  and  private  duties.  I  seldom  go 
more  than  once  to  church,  and  then  am  good  for  nothing  the 
rest  of  the  day.  I  must  read,  or  talk,  or  write  to  restrain 
my  thoughts  and  divert  them  into  less  sensitive  channels.  It 
is,  I  trust,  a  blameless  expedient  that  I  adopt  this  afternoon 
I  must  have  diversion  from  trains  of  thought  that  overmaster 
me. 


EXPECT     GREAT     THINGS.  135 

We  do  not  expect  much,  and  therefore  receive  little.  The 
ennobling  peculiarity  of  religion  is  chiefly  seen  in  the  agency 
of  faith.  It  becomes  about  what  we  have  the  courage  to  ex- 
pect :  "  Be  it  unto  thee  according  to  thy  faith,"  teaches  a  great 
general  truth.  Unbelief  dishonors  God,  and  He  is  not  likely 
to  do  the  best  things  for  those  who  entertain  debasing  views 
of  his  grace — who  do  not  quite  rely  upon  his  promises.  "  To 
him  that  believes,"  on  the  contrary,  all  things  are  possible ; 
and  the  largest  expectations  that  depend  on  Christ  for  their 
satisfaction,  are  far  more  likely  to  be  realized  than  the  small- 
est. By  looking  for  little  we  fairly  deprive  ourselves  of  the 
benefits  of  religion.  In  the  Gospel  economy,  he  who  expects 
most  honors  the  Savior  most.  The  more  unworthy  the  peti- 
tioner, and  the  greater  the  gift  he  asks,  the  higher  praise 
does  he  ascribe  to  Christ.  A  great  but  penitent  sinner, 
coming  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  asking  "the  best 
gifts"  through  the  merits  of  Christ,  is  the  highest  achieve- 
ment of  Christianity.  Angels  rejoice  over  it.  No  doubt  the 
Savior  exults  at  such  a  spectacle.  "  Expect  great  things," 
is  the  true  motto  when  God's  compassion  in  Christ  is  the 
fountain  of  supply.  To  expect  little  is  to  insure  little  or  noth- 
ing at  all.  So  it  is  in  experimental  piety.  They  who  fix 
the  standard  of  hope  low  seldom  rise  above  it.  They  sow  in 
unbelief,  and  often  reap  in  disappointment.  God  loves  a 
confiding  soul  that  can  trust  his  mercy  without  stint  or  fear, 
expecting  all  things  through  Christ  Jesus.  What  a  glorious 
economy  is  this  !  How  adapted  to  the  wants  of  poor  sinners, 
who  without  God  can  do  nothing,  but  "  through  Christ  can 
do  all  things  !"* 

*  This  letter  was  written  to  a  young  friend,  who  was  enabled,  by 
the  clear  and  simple  views  of  faith  presented  by  Dr.  Olin,  to  obtain 
the  assurance  of  forgiveness  of  sin  through  faith  in  Christ  Jesus. 


136  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


XCI.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON. 

Middletown,  September  13th,  1843. 

I  reached  home  last  Thursday  night  after  an  absence  of  five 
weeks.  I  have  so  far  been  overwhelmed  with  business  ac- 
cumulated in  my  absence.  Matters  will  soon  grow  easier, 
and  I  think  myself  bound  to  devote  my  earliest  leisure  to  you. 
You  know  that  I  gave  the  first  days  of  my  vacation  to  an  old, 
dear  friend,  whom  I  never  see  without  pleasure,  whose  long- 
tried  friendship  is  one  of  the  resources  on  which  I  rely  for  the 
future,  as  his  warm-hearted  kindness  has  been  a  rich  resource 
in  the  past.  May  God  bless  him  and  his  with  all  blessings, 
spiritual  and  temporal. 

I  went,  as  you  know,  to  the  Oneida  Conference,  Wilkes- 
barre,  Pennsylvania — a  laborious  journey,  but  a  most  inter- 
esting region  to  visit.  The  Conference  gave  us  an  agent,  and 
will,  I  hope,  render  some  valuable  aid  to  the  university.  I 
returned  by  way  of  New  York,  stopping  only  two  nights  at 
Jersey  City,  and  called  on  our  old,  esteemed,  and  excellent 
friends  at  Rhinebeck.  I  preached  twice  there,  and  stayed 
twelve  days,  the  rain  and  other  causes  detaining  me  longer 
than  I  had  expected.  I  saw  a  number  of  your  acquaintances 
—  Mrs.  Livingston,  Mr.  F.  Garrettson,  and  others.  From 
Rhinebeck  I  made  a  forced  march  to  the  Genesee  Confer- 
ence, at  Yates,  thirty  miles  this  side  of  Niagara,  and  got 
home  by  another  last  Thursday.  That  Conference  proposes 
to  do  what  it  can  in  aid  of  the  university.  It  is  an  interest- 
ing Conference,  youthful,  ardent — a  little  mercurial,  strong 
in  resources  and  talent.  I  hope  they  will  prove  to  have  bal- 
last for  all  weathers.  We  are  doing  as  well  as  usual  here. 
New  students  are  coming  in,  of  whom  we  have  already  re- 
ceived more  than  thirty. 

I  heard  from  my  brother  on  his  arrival  home  about  Sep- 
tember 1st.  He  was  as  well  as  he  was  when  he  began  his 
journey  southward,  and  less  fatigued  than  he  feared.  I  feel, 


TO     THE     SON     OF     HIS     FRIEND.  137 

perhaps,  too  much  anxiety  about  him.  My  family  attach- 
ments are  centered  on  him  very  much,  and  his  death  would 
inflict  a  blow  on  me  heavier  than  I  could  well  bear.  Yet 
God  will  do  right.  No  one  is  better  prepared  for  heaven. 
There,  it  is  a  comfort  to  think,  we  shall  meet  dear  friends  to 
part  no  more. 

XCII.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 
(On  his  marriage). 

Middletown,  September  25th,  1843. 

I  am  truly  glad  to  learn  that  you  are  about  to  be  married. 
It  will  certainly  promote  your  happiness,  unless,  indeed,  you 
shall  have  been  unfortunate  beyond  what  is  probable  in  se- 
lecting from  the  better  classes  of  Georgia  ladies — a  class  no- 
where surpassed  for  high  qualities,  and  for  the  heart  and 
grace  with  which  they  generally  adorn  and  bless  the  conju- 
gal relation.  May  God  shed  His  richest  blessings  upon  you, 
and  upon  her,  the  partner  of  your  weal  !  You  and  I  have 
become,  I  trust,  fast  friends,  having  never  seen  each  other. 
May  I  not  obtain  through  you  some  pretensions  to  be  a  fam- 
ily friend,  and  to  become  the  friend  of  your  wife  ?  I  hope 
you  will  see  to  that  as  well  as  you  can.  You  will  naturally 
visit  the  North  next  summer,  if  no  sooner,  and  I  now  invite 
you  to  make  my  house  your  home  while  in  this  part  of  the 
world.  I  should  be  highly  gratified  to  have  with  me  my 
friend,  and  the  son  of  a  most  beloved  and  honored  friend. 
To  make  you  remember  this  invitation,  I  couple  it  with  this 
piece  of  intelligence — I,  too,  expect  to  be  married  in  Octo- 
ber, to  Miss  Julia  Lynch,  daughter  of  Judge  Lynch,  of  New 
York.  I  think  her  well  qualified  to  make  me  happy  in  this 
most  interesting  relation. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  remind  you  how  much  and  how  spe- 
cially you  will  need  God's  blessing  upon  your  household — 
how  fit  the  occasion  for  giving  yourself  and  the  woman  of 
your  choice  away  to  Christ.  God  forbid  that  you  should  for 


138  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


a  day  postpone  such,  a  consecration.  Rear  up,  my  dear  friend, 
a  family  altar  for  the  morning  and  evening  sacrifice ;  and  may 
He  who  hears  and  answers  prayer  "build  you  a  sure  house." 

XCIII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

Middletown,  September  26th,  1843. 

.  .  .  .  I  am  a  little  selfish,  I  fear,  in  this  matter.  I 
want  to  secure  friends  younger  than  myself,  partly  because, 
when  my  head  becomes  whiter,  I  may  assert  an  old  man's 
prerogatives  ;  partly  and  chiefly,  because  young  men  are  less 
worldly,  more  frank  and  fearless,  and,  as  a  class,  they  are 
more  intelligent  and  of  larger  views.  I  wish  to  keep  in  com- 
munication with  the  warmest  hearts  and  the  most  enlight- 
ened minds.  It  postpones  the  coming  of  the  chills  of  selfish- 
ness and  caution,  and  superannuation.  What  is  yet  more 
material,  I  have  a  keen  relish  for  intercourse  and  correspond- 
ence with  those  I  esteem  and  love.  It  is  good  for  the  heart 
and  good  for  the  head.  One  has  more  thoughts,  and  better, 
in  this  way.  So  much  for  preliminaries. 

I  was  delighted  with  your  frank  criticism  on  my  first  vol- 
ume. It  is  precisely  the  sort  of  liberty  I  would  have  you  use 
in  regard  to  me.  Many  compliments  would  not  have  grati- 
fied me  half  so  much.  I  will  return  the  esteemed  favor  by 
philosophizing  a  little  in  the  same  spirit.  I  think  better  of 
the  comparative  merits  of  that  volume — I  should  think  a  good 
deal  better — than  you  do.  It  exhibits  the  result  of  a  great 
deal  of  industry  in  collecting  scattered  information,  and  is, 
so  far  as  I  know,  quite  the  best  economic  account  of  Egypt 
to  be  had  in  the  language.  I  think  this  is  the  reason  why 
you  feel  less  interest  in  the  book.  I  remember  thinking  that 
you  concerned  yourself  less  about  such  things  than  most  men 
of  your  cast  of  mind.  I  doubt  not  this  is  well,  upon  the 
whole,  but  if  this  remark  is  correct,  it  gives  a  reason  for 
your  criticism  not  wholly  incompatible  with  my  escape.  I 
am  waiting  with  some  solicitude  for  Dr.  Robinson's  article  in 


TRUST    IN     CHRIST.  139 

the  North  American,  though  I  do  not  really  anticipate  any 
thing  to  complain  of.  I  am  glad  you  think  well  of  my  argu- 
ment on  the  sepulchre. 

XCIV.  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  LANDON. 

September  27th,  1843. 

.     I  feel  an  unwonted  confidence  in  this,  as  in 
all  matters  for  some  time  past,  that  He  does  guide  me.     I 

mean  to  devote  myself  entirely  to  Christ I  feel 

new  obligations  and  incentives.  Indeed,  the  signal  spiritual 
blessings  of  the  last  year  or  two  call  for  more  entire  conse- 
cration. I  seem  to  myself  never  to  have  got  fairly  into  the 
way  of  religion  until  lately.  I  never  saw  the  full  excellency 
of  Christ  and  the  system — the  -length,  and  depth,  and  height 
of  its  genius  and  aims.  I  constantly  distrust  myself,  and  fear 
to  speak  out  what  I  feel  and  hope.  Yet  it  is  not  I,  but  my 
Savior,  whose  honor  is  concerned.  I  must  not  withhold  the 
honor  due  to  his  grace,  though  I  take  shame  and  confusion  of 
face  to  myself.  I  fear  bringing  reproach  upon  the  cause  by 
a  way  of  life  so  little  marked  by  many  of  the  sobrieties  and 
graces  of  the  Gospel,  yet  I  am  bound  to  testify  of  the  good- 
ness manifested  in  making  me  willing  to  consecrate  all  to 
Christ.  I  feel  greatly  changed,  as  it  seems  to  me,  in  two 
things.  I  am  enabled  to  commit  the  future  to  God,  as  I  nev- 
er could  before,  throwing  off  in  many  things  all  anxious  con- 
cern. Then,  in  regard  to  sickness  and  other  afflictions,  I  now 
see  and  feel  them,  as  essential  parts  of  God's  plan,  as  I  never 
did  before.  I  would  not  be  secured  from  them  if  I  could. 
I  may  want  them.  Upon  the  whole,  I  never  had  such  re- 
ligious feelings  and  views  before.  I  think  I  love  Christ  and 
the  Gospel  decidedly  more  than  I  used  to 


140  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


XCV.  TO  THE  REV.  DR. . 

Middletown,  November  2d,  1843. 

Your  letter  of  October  22d,  so  full  of  demands  on  my  re- 
spect, gratitude,  and  affection,  came  in  due  time,  and  I  do 
not  presume  that  you  regard  my  delay  as  long.  Yet  I  feel 
reproached  for  any  delay.  I  could  not  tell  you  if  I  tried  how 
much  I  congratulate  myself  upon  having  formed  your  ac- 
quaintance, and  having  become,  I  feel,  in  no  common  sense 
your  friend.  This  interest  will,  if  it  please  God,  and  you  are 
minded  favorably,  have  a  future  to  it,  and  I  shall  often  enjoy 
the  happiness  and  benefit  of  interchanging  sentiments  and 
counsels  with  an  intelligent,  warm-hearted,  Christian  man  in 
whom  I  fully  confide.  How  much  this  stands  for  in  one's 
account  of  earthly  good  few  men  know  better  than  I  do,  both 
from  having  enjoyed  and  having  lost  a  few  such.  May  God 
make  this  correspondence,  and  the,  I  trust,  mutual  sentiments 
of  regard,  of  love,  in  which  it  originated,  a  lasting  arid  great 
blessing  to  us  both — a  blessing  for  the  soul,  no  less  than  for 
the  taste,  the  affections,  and  the  intellect. 

With  my  congratulations  on  the  well-merited 
commendations  bestowed  by  all  upon  your  last  article  in  the 
Review,  I  pass  to  the  topic  with  which  your  kindness  induced 
you  to  fill  so  large  a  part  of  your  letter,  the  critique  on  my 
Travels  in  the  North  American.  I  expected  something  of 
the  kind  you  know,  and  though  the  whole  is  utterly  false  and 
groundless,  I  should  not  have  been  greatly  moved  by  it  but 
that  I  was  ill,  in  bed,  and  in  a  most  excitable  state  of  the 
nervous  system.  Dr.  Robinson,  to  whom  I  addressed  a  note, 
denies  all  responsibility  for  the  article,  though  he  repeats,  in 
very  respectful  language,  some  of  its  complaints  —  that  I 
have  paid  so  little  regard  to  some  of  his  claims  to  originality. 
I  have  explained  in  another  letter,  not  yet  answered,  and  so 
the  matter  now  stands.  I  was  in  Boston  and  tried  to  see  the 
editor,  but  he  was  absent.  I  have  since  written  to  him,  ask- 


CONGRATULATIONS.  141 

ing  a  place  for  a  calm  defense  in  the  North  American.  I  am 
waiting  for  his  reply,  which  I  rather  expect,  and  quite  hope 
will  be  favorable Mr. said  that  the  cri- 
tique led  him  to  suspect  personal  motives,  and  that  it  estab- 
lished nothing  else.  Thus  you  see  I  am  at  a  stand  for  the 
present.  Should  Dr.  Robinson  be  satisfied,  our  correspond- 
ence published  may  be  sufficient,  as  I  wish  only  to  clear  my- 
self, and  not  to  touch  him.  If  not,  which  I  more  expect — if 
he  shall  be  out  upon  me  in  his  forthcoming  Bibliotheca  Sacra, 
which  I  think  probable,  then  I  must  choose  my  ground  with 
an  eye  to  all  the  circumstances.  I  must  probably  wait  to 
receive  a  work  from  London,  which  is  needful  to  my  defense. 
I  can  not  think  that  I  have  any  thing  to  fear,  as  I  have  all 
the  truth  on  my  side.  Yet  I  recoil  from  a  controversy.  I 
can  not  trust  myself  in  such  work  if  I  can  keep  out  of  it.  I 
must  be  gentle  and  forbearing,  or  my  religious  feelings  will 
suffer.  My  book  must  have  endless  coincidences  with  Dr. 
Robinson's.  Yet  I  can  demonstrate,  with  regard  to  the  chief 
counts,  that  I  am  guiltless.  I  shall  roundly  deny  it  of  all, 
without  trying  to  prove  a  negative 

XCVI.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 

Middletown,  Nov.  14th,  1843. 

.  .  .  .  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  your  marriage 
with  one  who,  I  doubt  not,  is  well  fitted  to  increase  your  hap- 
piness. May  God  shed  upon  your  union  his  choicest  bless- 
ings. May  you  both  consecrate  yourselves  to  the  service  and 
interests  of  piety,  and  richly  enjoy  its  supports  and  guidance. 
I  thank  you  for  the  kind  and  even  affectionate  language  you 
are  pleased  to  use  concerning  me.  I  esteem  myself  fortunate 
in  having  the  friendship  of  my  friend's  son.  I  doubt  not  you 
will  do  honor  to  the  name  and  memory  of  a  man  for  whom 
your  respect  can  hardly  surpass  mine.  I  hope  that  the  ter- 
mination of  our  business  intercourse  will  not  estrange  us.  I 
have  always  been  highly  gratified  with  the  spirit  in  which 


142  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


you  have  conducted  our  affairs.  It  is  not  common,  I  fear,  for 
such  transactions  to  lay  the  foundation  of  lasting  respect  and 
friendship  between  interested  parties  as,  I  trust,  it  has  in  the 
present  case.  I  shall  not  cease  to  feel  a  lively  interest  in 
your  welfare,  growing  out  of  my  veneration  and  gratitude  to- 
ward your  excellent  father,  and  hardly  less  out  of  the  feelings 
which  have  sprung  up  during  our  correspondence. 

I  expect  to  keep  house  after  January.  My  wife  is  with 
me  at  Professor  Smith's,  where  we  are,  of  course,  very  well 
accommodated.  I  shall  still  hope  to  see  you  and  Mrs.  Flour- 
noy  at  no  distant  period  here,  I  trust — perhaps  also  in  Geor- 
gia— for  I  assure  you  I  would  make  a  detour  to  have  that 
pleasure 

XCVII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR. . 

New  York,  Dec.  14th,  1843. 

I  received  your  letter  full  of  good  things  a  few  days  before 
leaving  home.  Much  business  prevented  my  giving  an  im- 
mediate answer.  I  came  to  the  city  on  Friday  last,  and  found 
some  social  duties  to  do,  of  a  character  not  to  be  postponed. 
If  a  man  gets  married,  he  must  take  all  the  consequences, 
and  his  friends,  too,  may  have  their  claims  to  attention  a 
little  jostled  out  of  place.  This  is  the  first  letter  I  have  writ- 
ten since  my  arrival  here. 

The  North  American  Review  will  contain  a 
brief  explanation  from  me.  Brief  as  it  is,  it  will  probably 
prove  sufficient  until  more  is  said  on  the  other  side.  I  can 
not  hope  to  escape  a  controversy  that  shall  bring  out  every 
thing,  and  think  I  have  no  reason  to  fear  such  an  one,  though 
I  dread  and  shun  strife.  The  ground  I  take  is  this :  I  deny 
wholly  unfriendliness  or  plagiarism  in  regard  to  Dr.  Robin- 
son, to  whom  I  do  ample  justice  on  proper  occasions.  In  de- 
scribing the  same  objects,  obtaining  information  also  from  the 
same  books,  traditions,  and  resident  informants,  perpetual  co- 
incidences are  things  of  course,  if  both  tell  the  truth.  Dr. 


BRIEF    EXPLANATION.  143 

Robinson,  was  in  Jerusalem  in  '38  ;  I  in  '40.  He  published 
in  '41  ;  I  in  '43 — having  never  seen  his  work  till  February, 
'42,  and  being  perfectly  ignorant  of  its  contents  from  my  ill 
health.  My  travels  were  mostly  written  out  for  the  press  at 
that  time.  I  never  heard  of  his  discoveries  in  the  East,  nor 
till  I  saw  his  book.  Of  the  charge  about  Sinai,  I  say  that 
all  my  argument  was  written  there  in  the  convent.  Lord 
Lindsay,  whom  Robinson  had  read,  gives  the  substance  of 
his  argument,  which  I  am  accused  of  copying.  Lord  Lind- 
say, Laborde,  and  Carne  all  refer  to  the  plan  of  the  encamp- 
ment. All  were  known  to  Dr.  Robinson,  though  he  as  good 
as  claims  the  discoveiy  of  the  plain. 

Of  the  ancient  arch,  I  reaffirm  my  statements,  and  say  that 
Catherwood  declares  my  account  correct.  As  to  saying,  I 
did  not  know  that  this  had  been  mentioned  by  any  writer, 
this  is  dated  April,  1840,  and  was  true  then.  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  Dr.  Robinson's  views  till  1842,  and  never  heard  till 
then  of  his  discovery,  &c.  As  to  Bethsaida,  I  know  not  Dr. 
Robinson's  opinion  even  noiv.  I  give  none,  but  only  state 
several  of  other  men.  As  to  the  subterranean  conduit  con- 
necting the  fountains,  I  confess  my  error  in  referring  memori- 
ter  to  Pococke  ;  but  I  quote  Richardson,  who  gave  me  the 
idea,  as  he  probably  did  to  Dr.  Robinson,  who,  at  least,  teach- 
es no  more  than  he.  So  of  the  tower  of  David,  my  information 
was  wholly  independent  of  Dr.  Robinson's,  though  coincident. 
He  got  it  from  the  same  sources,  probably,  that  I  did.  I  never 
dreamed,  till  the  reviewer  told  me,  that  he  pretended  to  any 
originality  in  these  topics,  except  in  the  matter  of  the  bridge, 
which  I  knew  to  be  a  mistake,  at  best.  You  have  here  my 
explanation  in  brief.  I  hope  it  will  please  you. 

I  am  to  be  here  seven  weeks.  We  hope  to  keep  house  in 
going  to  Middletown  again.  I  am  full  of  business  of  all  sorts 
— clerical — professional — social — domestic.  I  wish  to  hear 
often  from  you  about  all  things  and  thoughts. 


144  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


XCVIII.  TO  TIIE  REV.  . 

New  York,  Jan.  17th,  1844. 

I  received  yours  of  the  12th  instant  yesterday.  I  lose  no 
time  in  answering  it ;  and  if  I  could  hope  to  write  what  will 
afford  you  a  small  measure  of  the  satisfaction  which  the  lan- 
guage of  your  epistle,  and  yet  more,  the  spirit  that  pervades 
it,  gave  me,  I  shall  much  exceed  my  expectations.  Only 
one  thing  gave  me  some  anxiety — what  you  say  about  hard 
work,  and  your  health  and  spirits.  It  so  happened  that  I 
had  just  returned  from  dining  in  company  with  a  common 
friend,  who  knows  more  of  your  hahits  than  I  do.  We  had 
a  conversation  on  the  subject.  I  felt  afraid  for  you,  from  what 
I  heard,  and,  on  entering  my  room  at  home,  your  letter  con- 
firmed my  apprehensions.  Doubtless  you  work  too  much — 
are  very  imprudent,  and  must  hold  in.  It  is  the  poorest  pol- 
icy you  can  possibly  adopt,  that  of  habitually  overtasking 
yourself.  It  may  do  for  a  while,  but  must  produce  a  bad  re- 
action. Then  will  come  vain  regrets  and  self-accusings,  and 
yet  you  may  accuse  yourself  of  imprudence,  suicide,  &c.,  with- 
out producing  any  sensible  alleviation  of  nervous  symptoms, 
lean  speak  oracles  on  this  subject.  Parsfui,  I  beg  you  to 
hear  me  this  once,  and  follow  my  counsel.  Instead  of  work- 
ing as  much  as  you  can  and  live,  have  some  reasonable,  mod- 
erate limit,  beyond  which  you  will  never  allow  yourself  to 
go.  This  is  the  only  thing  that  can  save  you.  You  have 
no  right  to  do  wrong  in  this  respect. 

I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  not  happy.  You 
ought  to  be,  I  am  sure  ;  and  I  trust  and  pray  that  you  may 
be  very  speedily.  A  great  deal  may  be  done  by  meeting  these 
exigencies  as  questions  of  duty.  Send  out  your  faith  in  quest 
of  alleviations.  The  future,  upon  which  you  should  draw 
freely,  has  sunbeams  enough  to  gild  the  sky  of  the  present, 
despite  of  clouds  and  storms.  Religion  can  do  every  thing 
for  us.  The  more  burdens  we  impose  upon  it,  the  better  it 


JOURNAL     LETTER.  145 

will  serve  us.  I  rejoice  that  your  wife  is  well,  or  nearly  so. 
That  was  the  chief  evil.  The  misfortunes  which  you  can 
not  relieve  you  ought  not  to  grieve  over.  They  are  proba- 
bly veiled  mercies  for  somebody. 

I  have  been  disabled  much  of  the  time  since  I  came  to  the 
city  by  a  most  inveterate  influenza — a  type  of  cold  of  which 
I  have  had  no  experience  until  now.  Add  to  this,  I  have 
been  at  dinners  and  parties  full  three  or  four  times  in  the 
week  ever  since  my  marriage.  I  am  worn  out  with  late 
hours  and  company,  and  yet,  as  these  attentions  come  in  the 
shape  of  compliments,  as  tokens  of  welcome  to  new  circles 
and  new  relations,  we  can  not  well  decline  them.  They 
are  now  nearly  over,  and  a  little  repose  will  put  all  right. 
Meantime,  I  have  preached  five  times  in  little  more  than  a 
fortnight.  I  am  a  little  harassed  by  the  wants  of  the  uni- 
versity, and  the  partial  attempts  made  to  relieve  it.  All 
will  come  round  in  due  time,  I  think  ;  but  I  have  no  heart 
for  affairs.  I  would  rejoice  to  be  set  free  from  all  work  but 
that  of  preaching ; — Deo  volente  always,  and  giving  meet 
strength 

I  feel  deeply  in  regard  to  the  missionary  interest.  I  am 
little  capable  of  devising  plans,  and  wish  I  were  more  capa- 
ble ;  but  this  is  not  my  talent,  I  fear.  Yet,  if  possible,  I  will 
do  my  duty  in  the  premises.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  ex- 
change views  with  you  on  this  great  topic. 

XCIX.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

February  4th,  1844. 

I  arrived  home  on  the  afternoon  of  Friday.  The  journey 
across  the  country  I  found  rather  cold  and  comfortless,  yet, 
after  breaking  down  twice,  we  reached  New  Haven  in  safety 
at  11  P.M.  Such  a  line  of  transportation  as  that  which  the 
closing  of  the  Sound  has  given  rise  to  has  not  often  been 
seen  in  this  country.  It  consists  of  all  the  old  hacks  and  ill- 
conditioned  horses  wont  to  carry  passengers  from  the  towns 
II.  G 


146  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

along  the  shore  to  the  boats.  They  are  wheeled  round  to  a 
right  angle  with  their  former  routes,  and  form  an  almost  un- 
broken line  of  the  most  abominable  vehicles  and  animals  that 
I  remember  to  have  seen  intrusted  with  the  limbs  and  lives 
of  human  beings.  New  Haven  and  Bridgeport  look  fantas- 
tically enough.  You  see  "Howard  Hotel,"  "Astor  House," 

on  the  carriages  that  fill  the  streets The  house 

was  warm  and  ready  for  you.  James  has  distributed  the 
furniture  as  his  tastes  and  talents  could,  through  the  rooms, 
around  and  centrally.  I  want  to  see  you  preside  over  the 
affairs  of  this  semi-furnished  house.  It  seems  even  more 
lonely  from  the  scattered  tokens  of  civilization,  only  that  they 
give  symptoms  of  better  times.  I  suppose  there  is  no  pros- 
pect of  your  coming  for  some  days.  This  keen,  still  weather 
is  making  thick  ice  momentarily.  I  must,  if  possible,  be  in 
New  York  again  next  Friday,  to  prosecute  my  mission.  .  . 
I  heard  brother  Griswold  preach  a  good  sermon  this  morn- 
ing, and,  seeing  that  he  was  hoarse,  I  offered  to  preach  in 
the  afternoon,  which  I  have  just  done,  from  "  Jesus  Christ, 
the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever."  I  had  much  com- 
fort, though  I  was  too  much  excited.  I  trust  that  GJ-od  will 
make  the  things  I  was  enabled  to  say  profitable  to  the  peo- 
ple. A  glorious  privilege  this,  of  preaching  Christ  !  How 
happy  could  I  do  nothing  else  !  Y7et  be  it  as  God  wills.  I 
have  a  very  lively  sense  of  the  fullness  of  Christ.  How 
strange  it  is  that  I  am  not  more  devoted  ! 

C.  TO  THE  SAME. 

New  York,  Friday,  February  16th,  1844. 
.  I  went  to  Williamsburgh  on  Tuesday.  Preach- 
ed a  funeral  sermon  to  a  crowded  church  in  the  morning,  and 
preached  again  at  night,  after  which  we  got  a  subscription 
of  $470.  I  am  to  go  to  Willett  Street  to-night.  Sunday 
afternoon  I  am  to  preaph  in  Second  Street,  and  to  attend  to 
the  subscription.  I  do  not  propose  to  do  this  on  Sunday,  but 


JOURNAL    LETTER.  147 

when  it  is  proposed  to  me  I  can  not  object,  for  I  think  it  holy 
work.  I  need  to  think  so  of  it,  to  sustain  me  in  it.  I  hope 
it  will  do  me  good  to  do  such  work.  It  has  the  advantage 
of  imposing  self-denial,  which  is  always  useful.  Upon  the 
whole,  this  indispensable  effort  to  endow  the  university  is 
likely  to  require  time,  toil,  patience,  faith,  and  sacrifices. 
Could  I  have  foreseen  all,  I  should  hardly  have  taken 
office.  Yet  I  do  not  regret  that  I  did.  I  should  much  pre- 
fer to  preach,  but  I  have  no  right  to  choose.  If  I  may  be 
useful,  that  is  all  I  ask.  I  think  it  a  vital  interest,  and, 
trusting  in  God,  I  mean  to  toil  on  so  long  as  there  is  any 
good  prospect.  I  expect  to  succeed,  because  I  think  Provi- 
dence will  favor  so  good  a  work.  I  can  form  no  conjecture 
about  the  time  of  my  return.  You  must  be  patient,  and  so 
encourage  me.  ...  I  doubt  not  that  your  parlors  look 
tempting  and  bright.  Truly,  I  could  wish  to  look  in  upon 
them  some  night  before  long.  I  should  be  soothed  by  other 
notes  than  those  of  the  piano. 

CI.  TO  THE  SAME. 

New  York,  Monday,  Feb.  19th,  1844. 

I  preached  last  Friday  night  at  Willett  Street,  and  got  a 
subscription  of  $548.  This  was  well  for  that  congregation. 
It  will  probably  be  increased  to  $600  or  more.  Yesterday 
afternoon  I  preached  to  Dr.  Bangs'  congregation  a  searching 
sermon  on  secret  faults.  The  subscription  exceeded  a  little 
$250.  For  this  week,  I  have  appointments  for  Tuesday, 
"Wednesday,  Thursday,  and  Friday  nights,  at  Eighteenth 
Street,  Norfolk  Street,  Bedford  Street,  and  Sullivan  Street 

Churches I  try  not  to  expect  too  much,  and 

am  glad  to  feel  myself  not  too  bitterly  disappointed  by  small 
results.  I  suppose  the  object  in  view  is  likely  to  be  accom- 
plished, so  far  as  I  can  see.  I  could  wish  that  I  liked  this 
begging  a  little  more,  or,  rather,  had  less  disrelish — repug- 
nance for  it.  Yet  I  have  a  clear  conscience.  I  try  to  man- 


148  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

age  the  business  religiously.  I  preach  Christ  honestly,  as  if 
I  had  no  favors  to  ask,  and  then,  after  stating  my  case  fairly, 
I  just  ask  them  to  do  their  duty.  I  can  not  use  the  fashion- 
able arts  of  practiced  platform  speakers.  My  taste  and  con- 
science are  both  against  it.  I  do  not  see  the  end  of  this 
business  yet.  I  have  full  work  for  at  least  two  weeks  more, 
and  an  appointment  is  already  out  for  next  Sunday  week  in 
Allen  Street  Church.  ...  I  do  this  as  a  duty.  I  bear 
it  as  a  cross. 

CII.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

New  York,  Feb.  27th,  1844. 
I  rejoice  to  know  that  you  are  contented  and 
happy.  So,  I  trust,  you  will  continue  to  be,  even  when  in- 
creasing cares  and  serious  duties  shall  press  on  you  with  an 
accumulated  burden.  These,  met  in  a  Christian  spirit,  are 
not  necessarily  incompatible  with  the  highest  degree  of  hap- 
piness of  which  our  present  condition  is  susceptible.  They 
make  life  thoughtful  and  serious,  but  not  melancholy.  They 
are  sustaining.  They  give  existence  an  importance  and  a 
value  it  can  not  have  when  left  too  free  from  care  and  occu- 
pation. I  speak  from  much  experience  on  this  subject.  I 
have  had  but  too  much  of  this  sort  of  leisure.  I  am  now 
trying  a  life  of  toil  and  responsibility.  Indeed,  I  was  never 
so  burdened  before.  Yet  I  prefer  to  have  my  hands  full  of 
work,  though  I  might  not  exactly  choose  to  have  the  sort 
that  falls  to  my  lot.  I  will  not  repine  at  this,  even.  I  am 
glad  to  beg,  if  that  come  in  the  way  of  my  duty,  as,  indeed, 
it  seems  to,  though  certainly  I  might  shrink  from  this  as  a 
vocation.  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  This 
must  be  my  motto.  It  has  been,  I  trust,  for  twenty  years, 
though  really  I  have  done  nothing  valuable,  or  hardly  any 
thing.  Yet  I  have  borne  my  cross.  I  have  stood  in  my  lot, 
and  I  hope,  in  the  great  day,  to  have  extended  to  me  the 
welcome  of  my  Lord,  "  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant," 


REVIEW     OF     THE     PAST.  149 

not,  certainly,  through  my  own  faithfulness  or  merit,  but 
through  the  infinite  merits  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  His  name  I 
give  now,  in  my  inmost  heart,  all  praise  for  what  hope  I  have, 
and  what  religion  has  done  for  my  support  and  happiness 
heretofore.  I  am  deeply  conscious  of  manifold  wants  and 
deficiencies,  arid  I  most  earnestly  desire  to  seek  and  wait  in 
faith  for  brighter,  fuller  manifestations. 

My  meeting  in  John  Street  succeeded  better  than  I  had 
anticipated.  I  preached  to  a  good  audience  on  the  Widow's 
Mite  !  The  subscriptions  amounted  to  a  little  more  than 
$1700 — making,  with  the  amounts  previously  subscribed  by 
two  members  of  this  church,  $2500.  The  people  were  sur- 
prised at  their  own  liberality,  and  apparently  no  less  delight- 
ed. To-night  I  am  to  be  at  Greene  Street  Church.  To- 
morrow I  am  to  preach  in  Vestry  Street,  where  $1500  are 
already  subscribed,  and  I  fear  no  great  additions  are  to  be 
expected. 

CIII.  TO  THE  SAME. 

New  York,  Friday,  March  1st,  1844. 

Your  letter  of  Tuesday  made  me  very  glad  on  Wednesday, 
though  I  confess  it  breathed  rather  a  melancholy  tone  and 
spirit.  We  love  sympathy.  This,  you  know,  has  passed  into 
a  proverb,  and  yet  sad  tones  do  not  cheer  the  sad.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  I  had  rather  less  of  cheerful  spirits  than  usual 
the  day  I  received  your  letter.  I  had  hoped  to  find  a  restor- 
ative in  it.  There  was  really  in  it  nothing  to  produce  or  to 
increase  sadness,  and  yet  the  want  of  the  buoyant  spirit  which 
you  commonly  manifest  produced  an  uncomfortable  frame  of 
mind,  from  which,  I  regret  to  say,  the  progress  of  two  days 
has  not  quite  relieved  me.  I  have  really  nothing  to  com- 
plain of.  I  am  very  well,  with  the  exception  of  the  lassitude 
which  a  good  deal  of  overdoing  has  brought  on,  and  which  a 
little  repose  will  no  doubt  entirely  cure.  I  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  and  much  encouraged.  I  have  worked  recently,  1 


150  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

think,  without  serious,  or  more  than  transient  injury,  as  I  have 
not  been  able  to  work  before  in  twenty  years,  certainly  as  I 
had  no  expectation  of  doing  again  in  this  world.  This  is  the 
more  a  matter  of  gratitude  from  new  and  most  interesting 
ties  that  bind  me  to  the  world.  I  have  for  many  years  re- 
garded life  not  only  as  uncertain,  but  not  very  desirable.  My 
thoughts  have  been  much  on  the  transition  which  I  seemed 
destined  soon  to  make  from  this  to  another  state  of  being. 
Under  the  pressure  of  pain  and  care  I  found  solace  in  looking 
to  the  swift-coming  future.  Never,  I  trust,  was  I  disposed  to 
repine  or  complain  of  my  lot.  I  have,  indeed,  esteemed  my- 
self, upon  the  whole,  a  fortunate  man.  I  have  enjoyed  life. 
I  have  loved  my  friends,  and  have  been  loved  and  cherished 
by  them  to  an  extent  that  has  quite  surprised  me,  and  for 
which  I  could  see  no  good  reason  but  in  their  great  kindness 
and  in  God's  over-ruling  mercy.  I  have  been,  in  many  re- 
spects, what  the  world  calls  a  fortunate  man  ;  and  the  many 
pains  and  changes  I  "have  felt  have  not  soured  me  toward 
the  world.  Yet  I  have  experienced  a  measure  of  weariness, 
and  have  oftener  thought  of  heaven  as  a  place  of  repose  than 
as  one  of  enjoyment.  It  still  looks  most  desirable  to  me  in 
that  view,  and  I  yet  look  away  from  responsibilities  and  cares, 
which  often  fill  me  with  anxiety,  to  the  land  where  neither 
the  world  nor  the  heart  can  molest  any  more — where  rest 
and  holiness  will  be  a  delightful  portion. 

Yet  I  have  experienced  a  change  of  feeling  in  these  re- 
spects. I  trust  I  do  not  love  heaven  and  its  hopes  less.  I 
have,  however,  dearer  objects  than  before  on  earth,  which 
give  new  and  stronger  attractions  to  the  present.  I  can  now 
do  some  little  service,  thank  God,  and  I  could  gladly  work  on 
a  century,  if  in  my  generation  I  might  promote  the  cause 
and  glory  of  Christ.  If  I  could,  indeed,  feel  assured  that  my 
labors  were  effective  to  that  end — if  I  could  see  that  they 
made  the  Church  better,  more  useful,  more  holy,  how  gladly 
would  I  toil !  I  often  feel,  however,  that  I  am  not  fit  for  my 


A     NEW     HOME.  151 


place.  I  lack  many  qualities  and  qualifications  most  desir- 
able, if  not  indispensable,  in  such  an  office.  I  want  learning ; 
I  want  a  higher  piety  ;  I  want  wisdom,  patience,  love,  zeal. 
I  often  fear  I  shall  do  no  good  ;  and  yet  I  seem  to  be  doing  all 
I  can.  Oh,  if  God  will  guide  and  uphold  me — if  I  may  have 
a  deeper  baptism  into  the  spirit  of  Christ,  I  may  yet  possibly 
do  some  good — I  may,  at  least,  be  saved  from  doing  harm. 
Pray  for  me,  my  dear  friend.  Do  not  neglect  to  pray  for  me 
mightily.  I  intended  to  say  that,  besides  the  religious  con- 
siderations to  which  I  have  referred — my  endearing  relation 
to  you — the  home  which  you  will  gild  and  bless — the  do- 
mestic satisfactions,  of  which  I  doubt  not  you  will  minister  a 
goodly  supply — my  desire  to  do  you  good  and  help  you  in  your 
I'eligion,  that  I  may  comfort,  guide,  and  protect  you,  are  in- 
spiring considerations,  which  throw  light  upon  future  years, 
and  support  me  under  the  pressure  of  urgent  wants  and  cares. 
I  was  at  Vestry  Street  last  night ;  they  had  already  sub- 
scribed $1500.  They  made  this  amount  $2000  last  evening, 
which  is  about  what  I  had  hoped  for.  I  preached  in  Greene 
Street  the  evening  before,  and  I  am  to  preach  in  Allen  Street 
Church  next  Sunday.  I  hope  to  come  home  Monday  or 
Tuesday. 

CIV.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 

Middletown,  March  6th,  1844. 

I  returned  last  night  from  New  York,  where  I  have  spent 
the  last  three  weeks  on  a  tour  of  duty  for  the  university.  I 
have  obtained  subscriptions  toward  its  endowment  to  the 
amount  of  $11,500.  You  will  infer  the  great  improvement 
in  my  health  when  I  inform  you  that  I  preached  fourteen 
times  in  three  weeks.  I  have  not  attempted  such  a  labor 
before  in  nearly  twenty  years,  nor,  I  think,  been  so  well  able 
to  bear  it  in  fifteen  years.  I  have  overdone  a  little,  and, 
though  not  sick,  feel  the  want  of  a  little  repose.  I  am  pre- 
pared to  enjoy  it  at  my  own  home.  This  is  language  that  I 


152  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

could  not  have  used,  until  this  moment,  since  1837.  I  am 
not  sure  that  my  trunk  has  been  unpacked  during  that  en- 
tire period,  in  which  I  have  sojourned  in  hotels,  lodgings, 
tents,  &c.  I  have  just  now  entered  on  housekeeping  in  the 
president's  house,  which  I  have  just  furnished.  I  feel  some 
peculiar  emotions  on  entering  again  on  such  a  course  of  life, 
and  I  look  for  as  much  satisfaction  as  ought  to  be  expected 
from  domestic  life.  I  am  very  happily  married,  having  noth- 
ing to  desire  in  that  respect.  It  will  give  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  see  you  in  my  house  when,  if  ever,  Providence  shall 
direct  your  steps  to  this  northern  region.  You  will  please  to 
remember  that  if  you  ever  visit  the  North,  say  Philadelphia 
or  New  York,  I  shall  expect  you  to  come  and  see  me,  and  I 
shall  certainly  feel  very  happy  to  see  my  friend,  and  the  son 
of  my  friend,  in  my  own  home.  Mrs.  F is  of  course  con- 
sidered as  resting  under  the  same  injunction. 

CV.  TO  THE  REV.  LE  ROY  M.  LEE. 

Middletown,  March  8th,  1844. 

REV.  AND  DEAR  BROTHER, — I  have  returned  within  the 
last  three  days  from  a  three  weeks'  absence,  and  did  not,  un- 
til this  morning,  find  an  hour  to  devote  to  the  reading  of  your 
sermon  on  the  ministry.  Presuming  that  I  am  indebted  to 
you  for  the  copy  sent  me  by  mail,*  I  have  determined  to  lose 

*  Dr.  Lee  writes,  in  answer  to  this  letter,  "  You  were  not  mistak- 
en in  supposing  I  sent  you  the  copy  of  the  sermon  preached  before 
our  Conference.  In  doing  so,  I  designed  to  express  my  grateful  re- 
membrance of  the  brief  period  I  was  once  permitted  to  spend  in  your 
company,  and  of  the  pleasure  you  had  afforded  me  by  allowing  me  to 
sit  down  in  the  quiet  of  my  study,  and  yet  journey  with  you  through 
a  country  rich  in  sacred  associations,  or,  as  I  have  pictured  it  to  my 
imagination,  to  lie  down  with  you  upon  sands  once  overshadowed  by 
the  pillar  of  cloud,  or  where  the  Lord  Jehovah  had  kindled  his  watch- 
fires,  and  stood  sentinel  over  the  slumbering  multitudes  of  Israel.  It 
was  with  feelings  like  these,  rather  than  from  any  expectation  of  im- 
parting a  pleasure  to  you,  much  less  to  elicit  a  letter  expressive  of 
your  approbation  of  my  work,  that  I  forwarded  it." 


SERMON     ON     THE     MINISTRY.  153 

no  time  in  tendering  you  my  thanks  for  this  agreeable  proof 
that  you  recollect  rne,  and  for  the  valuable  and  timely  serv- 
ice you  have  done  to  the  religious  public  by  the  publication 
of  this  discourse.  I  am  habitually  and  conscientiously  spar- 
ing in  bestowing  praise.  I  am  always  glad  of  all  opportu- 
nities to  give  to  my  friends  proofs  of  my  affection  and  confi- 
dence ;  but  in  the  matter  of  expressing  favorable  opinions  of 
their  performances  or  abilities,  some  who  know  me  best,  and 
are  in  the  habit  of  speaking  to  me  most  confidentially,  so  oft- 
en complain  of  a  fastidious  reserve.  I  have  my  reasons  for 
this  chariness.  There  are  so  many  mouths  ready  to  utter 
laudatory  paeans  when  they  are  deserved,  and  when  they  are 
not,  that  I  think  I  may  well  indulge  in  my  humor,  which 
suits  my  taste,  my  habits,  and  my  principles.  You,  I  am 
sure,  would  not  demand,  though  I  hope  you  will  tolerate, 
this  apology  for  the  expression  of  my  sentiments  upon  your 
sermon.  You  are  familiar  enough  with  compliments,  and  I 
am  not  ignorant  that  the  pamphlet  in  question  has  called 
forth  many  of  much  more  value  than  mine.  Yet  none  are 
more  sincere  than  I  am  in  characterizing  your  discourse  as 
excellent  for  the  subject  and  the  occasion — as  well  written 
and  well  reasoned,  and  as  decidedly  good,  both  in  its  temper 
and  theology.  I  have  read  it  with  satisfaction  as  a  Method- 
ist and  a  Christian,  and  as  a  friend  and  a  scholar.  I  hope 
it  will  be  extensively  circulated.  It  will  not  fail  to  do  good 
to  all  who  read.  It  will  suit  the  latitude  of  Virginia  and 
North  Carolina  admirably,  no  doubt,  and  it  will  suit  any  oth- 
er latitude  just  as  well ;  for  the  ridiculous  pretensions  which 
it  combats  so  successfully  are  unfortunately  rife  every  where. 
This  absurdity  is  just  now  endowed  with  ubiquity.  I  do  not 
hope,  of  course,  that  you  will  make  proselytes.  There  is 
nothing  so  invulnerable  as  egregious  folly.  Just  make  it  ex- 
cessive, and  you  have  made  it  invincible.  It  is  fairly  taken 
out  of  the  region  of  common  sense  and  argument.  It  is  even 
likely  that  a  certain  class  of  minds  will  make  it  a  matter  of 

G-2 


154  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

faith.  Yet,  if  you  make  no  proselytes,  you  may  prevent  apos- 
tasies. Some  persons  are  addicted  to  will- worship,  and  are 
always  on  the  eve  of  adopting  the  silliest  and  most  incredible 
dogma  that  may  happen  to  be  at  hand.  It  may  suit  such  to 
have  the  monstrosity  of  the  one  just  now  in  fashion  so  clearly 
depicted.  The  thing  wanted  is  not  precisely  to  show  the  in- 
credibility of  the  dogma.  That,  with  many,  is  an  incentive 
to  faith.  Let  them  perceive  the  mischievous  character  of  the 
error,  and  its  incompatibility  with  some  other  facts  and  prin- 
ciples which  they  can  not  afford  to  renounce,  and  you  admit 
them  to  the  best  possible  chance  of  return  to  a  sound  mind, 
and,  at  least,  of  avoiding  one  blunder.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
hear  that  your  sermon  has  had  as  wide  a  circulation  as  it  de- 
serves. The  book  agents  in  New  York  ought  to  give  it  the 
benefit  of  their  facilities,  so  that  it  may  reach  all  parts  of  the 
country. 

Allow  me  to  thank  you  for  the  Advocate,  which  reaches 
me  with  great  regularity,  and  keeps  me  advised  of  the  state 
of  things  in  a  region  of  which  I  have  very  many  endear- 
ing recollections.  I  never  by  any  chance  hear  from  a  Vir- 
ginia preacher.  I  never,  except  most  accidentally,  hear 
from  my  old  associates  in  the  college.  Yet  the  years  spent 
in  Virginia  are  of  precious  memory.  My  intercourse  with 
my  brethren  was  ever  delightful — the  memory  of  it  is  very  re- 
freshing. Do  you  ever  see  brother  Early  ?  Smith  ?  Crowder  ? 
If  so,  do  remember  me  to  them.  Allow  me  to  assure  you  of 
my  unimpaired  respect  and  affection  toward  you. 
Your  unworthy  brother  in  Christ, 

S.  OLIN. 


THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE     OF     1844.    155 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1844. 

To  the  results  of  the  deliberations  of  this  Conference 
many  in  the  Church  were  looking  forward  with  anx- 
ious interest.  Grave  matters,  involving  great  inter- 
ests, would,  in  all  probability,  claim  serious  thought  and 
decided  action.  The  vexed  question  of  slavery,  com- 
plicated as  it  is  by  political  and  ecclesiastical  relations, 
would,  In  some  shape  or  other,  demand  the  attention 
of  the  delegates.  The  coming  events  cast  their  shadows 
darkly  before  ;  but  men  found  the  difficulties  they  had 
anticipated  presented  in  a  new  and  hopeless  form  when 
it  was  revealed  to  the  Conference  that  the  appeal  case 
of  Francis  A.  Harding,  suspended  by  the  Baltimore  Con- 
ference in  consequence  of  his  refusal  to  manumit  slaves, 
of  which  he  had  become  the  owner  by  marriage,  was 
but  an  introduction  to  the  more  involved  subject,  with 
its  far-reaching  consequences,  which  was  for  weeks  to 
weigh  upon  the  heart  and  the  mind  of  the  Conference. 

This  Conference  was  an  eventful  one  to  Dr.  Olin. 
He  had  come  as  a  stranger  among  his  Northern  breth- 
ren, and  they  had  warmly  received  him,  and  showed 
their  confidence  in  him  by  electing  him  as  one  of  their 
representatives  in  the  great  deliberative  assembly  of  the 
Church.  He  was  detained  at  home  by  illness  for  the 
first  ten  days  of  the  session,  and  he  was  consequently 
absent  while  the  case  of  Francis  A.  Harding  was  un- 
der discussion.  The  day  after  his  arrival  in  New  York, 


156  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

the  vote  was  taken,  on  the  motion  of  Mr.  Early,  to  re- 
verse the  decision  of  the  Baltimore  Conference,  and 
Dr.  Olin  was  excused  from  voting,  on  the  ground  "that 
his  credentials  were  only  presented  the  day  before, 
that  he  had  not  heard  the  journals  read,  and  had  only 
heard  a  portion  of  the  debates.  '  Sometimes,'  he  said, 
'  it  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  avoid  responsibility,  but 
in  this  case  he  had  no  disposition  to  shrink  from  re- 
sponsibility, and  would  much  rather  have  voted,  but 
could  not  do  it  conscientiously.' "  The  motion  was 
lost. 

On  Tuesday,  May  14th,  Dr.  Capers  presented  the  fol- 
lowing resolution,  which  was  received  with  a  gush  of 
Christian  feeling : 

"  In  view  of  the  distracting  agitation  which  has  so 
long  prevailed  on  the  subject  of  slavery  and  abolition, 
and  especially  the  difficulties  under  which  we  labor  in 
the  present  General  Conference  on  account  of  the  rel- 
ative position  of  our  brethren  North  and  South  on  this 
perplexing  question ;  therefore, 

"  Resolved,  That  a  committee  of  three  from  the  North 
and  three  from  the  South  be  appointed  to  confer  with 
the  bishops,  and  report  within  two  days  as  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  adopting  some  plan  for  the  permanent  paci- 
fication of  the  Church." 

"  Dr.  Olin  spoke  to  the  motion  under  the  most  powerful 
emotion,  and  in  a  strain  of  tenderness  that  moved  every  mem- 
ber of  the  Conference.  He  said  he  felt,  from  his  relation  to 
the  Conference,  as  a  member  for  the  first  time,  it  became 
him  to  explain  why  his  name  was  attached  to  the  resolution. 
It  had  been  shown  to  him  within  five  minutes,  and  he  had 
asked  upon  it  the  advice  of  one  whose  opinion  was  entitled 


THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1844.  157 

to  great  weight.  He  could  not  refuse  to  second  it,  believing 
it  was  offered  in  a  spirit  of  conciliation.  He  had  feared  for 
these  two  or  three  days  that,  though  possibly  they  might  es- 
cape the  disasters  that  threatened  them,  it  was  not  probable. 
He  had  seen  the  cloud  gathering,  so  dark  that  it  seemed  to 
him  there  was  no  hope  left  for  them,  unless  God  should  give 
them  hope.  It  might  be  from  his  relation  to  both  extremi- 
ties that,  inferior  as  might  be  his  means  of  forming  conclu- 
sions on  other  topics,  he  had  some  advantages  on  this.  And 
from  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  feelings  of  his  breth- 
ren in  the  work,  he  saw  little  ground  of  encouragement  to 
hope.  '  It  appears  to  me,'  he  continued,  '  that  we  stand  com- 
mitted on  this  question  by  our  principles  and  views  of  policy, 
and  neither  of  us  dare  move  a  step  from  our  position.  Let 
us  keep  away  from  the  controversy  until  brethren  from  oppo- 
site sides  have  come  together.  I  confess  I  turn  away  from 
it  with  sorrow,  and  a  deep  feeling  of  apprehension  that  the 
difficulties  that  are  upon  us  now  threaten  to  be  unmanage- 
able. I  feel  it  in  my  heart,  and  never  felt  on  any  subject  as 
I  do  on  this.  I  may  take  it  for  granted  that  we  speak  as  op- 
ponents here.  I  have  had  no  part  in  this  controversy.  It  has 
pleased  God  that  I  should  be  far  away,  or  laid  upon  a  bed 
of  sickness.  I  have  my  opinions  and  attachments,  but  I 
am  committed  by  no  act  of  mine  to  either  side ;  and  I  will 
take  it  on  me  to  say  freely,  that  I  do  not  see  how  Northern 
men  can  yield  their  ground,  or  Southern  men  give  up  theirs. 
I  do,  indeed,  believe  that  if  our  affairs  remain  in  their  pres- 
ent position,  and  this  General  Conference  do  not  speak  out 
clearly  and  distinctly  on  the  subject,  however  unpalatable  it 
may  be,  they  could  not  go  home  under  this  distracting  ques- 
tion without  a  certainty  of  breaking  up  their  Conferences.  I 
have  been  to  eight  or  ten  of  the  Northern  Conferences,  and 
spoken  freely  with  men  of  every  class,  and  firmly  believe  that, 
with  the  fewest  exceptions,  they  are  influenced  by  the  most 
ardent  and  the  strongest  desire  to  maintain  the  discipline  of 


158  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


our  Church.     Will  the  Southern  men  believe  me  in  this,  when 
I  say  I  am  sincere,  and  well  informed  on  the  subject  ?     The 
men  who  stand  here  as  abolitionists  are  as  ardently  attached 
to  Methodist  episcopacy  as  you  all.     I  believe  it  in  my  heart. 
Your  Northern  brethren,  who  seem  to  you  to  be  arrayed  in  a 
hostile  attitude,  have  suffered  a  great  deal  before  they  have 
taken  their  position  ;  and  they  come  up  here  distressed  beyond 
measure,  and  disposed,  if  they  believed  they  could,  without 
destruction  and  ruin  to  the  Church,  to  make  concession.     It 
may  be  that  both  parties  will  consent  to  come  together  and 
talk  over  the  matter  fairly,  and  unbosom  ourselves,  and  speak 
all  that  is  in  our  hearts,  and,  as  lovers  of  Christ,  keep  out 
passion  and  prejudice,  and,  with  much  prayer,  call  down  the 
Holy  Spirit  upon  our  deliberations,  and,  feeling  the  dire  ne- 
cessity that  oppresses  both  parties,  they  will  at  least  endeavor 
to  adopt  some  plan  of  pacification,  that  if  they  go  away  it 
may  not  be  without  hope  of  meeting  again  as  brethren.     I 
look  to  this  measure  with  desire  rather  than  with  hope.    With 
regard  to  our  Southern  brethren — and  I  hold  that  on  this 
question,  at  least,  I  may  speak  with  some  confidence — that 
if  they  concede  what  the  Northern  brethren  wish — if  they 
concede  that  holding  slaves  is   incompatible  with  holding 
their  ministry — they  may  as  well  go  to  the  Rocky  Mountains 
as  to  their  own  sunny  plains.     The  people  would  not  bear  it. 
They  feel  shut  up  to  their  principles  on  this  point.     They 
love  the  cause,  and  would  serve  God  in  their  work.     I  be- 
lieve there  is  not  a  man  among  them  that  would  not  make 
every  sacrifice,  and  even  die,  if  thereby  they  could  heal  this 
division.     If  their  difficulties  are  unmanageable,  let  their 
spirit  be  right.     If  we  must  part,  let  us  meet  and  pour  out 
our  tears  together ;  and  let  us  not  give  up  until  we  have 
tried.     I  came  into  this  Conference  yesterday  morning  to  offer 
another  resolution.      It  was  that  we  should  suspend — now 
that  the  Sabbath  had  intervened,  and  shed  its  calmness  and 
quiet  over  our  agitated  spirits — that  we  should  suspend  our 


THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1844,  159 


duties  for  one  day,  and  devote  it  to  fasting  and  prayer,  that 
God  might  help  us  if  he  would,  that  if  we  have  not  union 
we  might  have  peace.  This  resolution  partakes  of  the  same 
spirit.  I  can  not  speak  on  this  subject  without  deep  emotion. 
If  we  push  our  principles  so  far  as  to  break  up  the  connection, 
this  may  be  the  last  time  we  shall  meet.  I  fear  it !  I  fear 
it !  I  see  no  way  of  escape.  If  we  find  any,  it  will  be  in 
mutual  moderation,  in  calling  for  help  from  the  God  of  our 
fathers,  and  in  looking  upon  each  other  as  they  were  wont  to 
do.  These  are  the  general  objects  I  had  in  view  in  second- 
ing the  resolution,  as  they  are  of  him  who  moved  it.' 

"  The  reverend  gentleman  sat  down  amid  the  most  deep 
and  hallowed  excitement,  and  the  responsive  prayers  of  the 
whole  Conference." 

This  resolution,  with  the  substitution  of  the  words 
"  a  committee  of  six"  for  the  words  "  a  committee  of 
three  from  the  South  and  three  from  the  North,"  was 
unanimously  adopted,  and  Drs.  Capers,  Olin,  and  Wi- 
nans,  and  Messrs.  Early,  Hamline,  and  Crandall  were 
appointed  the  committee  on  the  question  of  pacification. 
"  Two  days,"  said  Dr.  Capers,  "  were  allotted  to  the 
conference  with  the  bishops,  and  the  first  of  these  was 
set  apart  for  fasting,  and  the  business  of  the  General 
Conference  was  suspended  for  a  prayer-meeting,  to  in- 
voke the  blessing  of  Grod  and  his  guidance  in  the  mat- 
ter. Well,  the  committee  met  with  the  bishops,  and 
they  reported  that,  after  a  calm  and  deliberate  inves- 
tigation of  the  subject  intrusted  to  them,  they  could 
not  agree  on  any  measure  promising  peace.  But,  after 
all,  who  can  tell  but  that  the  issue  to  which  we  have 
been  brought  involves  the  very  and  only  plan  of  per- 
manent pacification  possible  in  our  circumstances.  We 
looked  and  labored  another  way — perhaps  every  other 


160  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

way — meaning  to  secure  peace  without  even  the  pain 
of  friendly  separation.  But  no  expedient  could  be 
found,  and  if  we  had  supposed  we  could  have  found 
one,  and  agreed  to  adopt  it,  still  our  agreement  might 
not  have  been  followed  by  the  pacification  of  the  Church 
at  large." 

It  was  an  hour  long  to  be  remembered — that  mid- 
day hour  of  prayer  in  the  General  Conference,  and  all 
present  felt  its  subduing  power,  as  fervent  supplications 
were  poured  forth  alternately  by  the  Northern  and 
Southern  brethren.  They  had  looked  "  for  light,  and 
there  was  no  ray ;  they  had  called  for  help,  and  there 
was  no  answer ;"  and,  in  utter  despair  of  all  human 
aid  and  counsel,  they  were  now  prostrated  before  their 
heavenly  Helper.  "  Was  there  ever  such  a  parting 
among  brethren,  so  full  of  Christian  love  and  sympa- 
thy ?"  said  a  lady  in  the  gallery,  with  streaming  eyes, 
as  she  listened  to  the  petitions  gushing  from  the  great 
deep  of  the  heart,  as  she  beheld  the  manifestations  of 
deep  feeling,  not  to  be  repressed,  by  those  who,  bowed 
as  they  were  together,  acknowledging  one  Lord,  one 
"faith,  one  baptism,  yet  had  the  underlying  conviction 
that  henceforth  they  were  to  dwell  together  no  more 
as  brethren.  Perhaps  no  one  there  felt  this  more  keen- 
ly than  Dr.  Olin,  whose  frame  thrilled  with  emotion,  as 
he  knelt  near  the  altar  in  the  midst  of  the  dear  friends, 
to  whom  he  was  so  closely  united  by  many  ties  of 
Christian  love. 

On  Tuesday,  May  21st,  the  Committee  on  Episco- 
pacy, who  had  been  instructed  to  inquire  whether  any 
one  of  the  superintendents  had  become  connected  with 
slavery,  having  ascertained  that  Bishop  Andrew  was 


THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1844.  161 

thus  connected,  asked  leave  to  offer  a  written  commu- 
nication from  him  as  his  statement  and  explanation  of 
the  matter.  This  report  was  laid  on  the  table,  to  be 
taken  up  on  Wednesday  as  the  special  order  of  the  day, 
when  Mr.  Griffith,  of  the  Baltimore  Conference,  pre- 
sented the  following  resolution  and  preamble  : 

"  Whereas  the  Rev.  James  O.  Andrew,  one  of  the  bishops 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  has  become  a  slavehold- 
er ;  and  whereas  it  has  been,  from  the  origin  of  said  Church, 
a  settled  policy,  and  the  invariable  usage,  to  elect  no  person 
to  the  office  of  bishop  who  was  embarrassed  with  this  '  great 
evil,'  as  under  such  circumstances  it  would  be  impossible 
for  him  to  exercise  the  functions  and  perform  the  duties  as- 
signed to  a  general  superintendent  with  acceptance  in  that 
large  portion  of  his  charge  in  which  slavery  does  not  exist ; 
and  whereas  Bishop  Andrew  was  himself  nominated  by  our 
brethren  of  the  slaveholding  states,  and  elected  by  the  Gen- 
eral Conference  of  1832,  as  a  candidate  who,  though  living 
in  the  midst  of  a  slaveholding  population,  was  nevertheless 
free  from  all  personal  connection  with  slavery  ;  and  whereas 
this  is,  of  all  periods  in  our  history  as  a  Church,  the  one  least 
favorable  to  such  an  innovation  upon  the  practice  and  usage 
of  Methodism  as  confiding  a  part  of  our  itinerant  general  su- 
perintendency  to  a  slaveholder  ;  therefore, 

"  Resolved,  That  the  Rev.  James  0.  Andrew  be  and  is 
hereby  affectionately  requested  to  resign  his  office  as  one  of 
the  bishops  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

"  ALFRED  GRIFFITH, 
"  JOHN  DAVIS." 

In  the  debate  upon  a  motion  that  the  restriction 
which  allowed  but  fifteen  minutes  to  each  speaker 
should  be  taken  off  during  the  discussion  of  this  ques- 
tion, 


162  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

"  Dr.  Olin  said  the  special  issue  before  us  was  a  matter  of 
more  importance  than  whether  it  consumed  one  or  two  days 
in  the  debate,  and  he  should  deplore  it  as  a  great  evil,  and  a 
measure  likely  to  act  unfavorably  on  the  great  interests  in- 
volved, to  cut  short  the  debates.  He  was  aware  that  they 
were  straitened  for  time  ;  but  the  subject  before  them  was 
one  that  demanded  discussion.  They  were  bound  to  go  on 
the  supposition  that  on  this  question  no  one  was  pledged  or 
decided.  They  sat  there  to  deliberate  and  decide  on  what 
might  be  said  to  be  one  of  the  most  momentous  questions 
that  ever  agitated  the  Church  ;  and  he  wanted  to  hear  a  full 
and  dispassionate  exhibition  of  the  views  of  brethren  on  this 
subject,  given  as  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  with  a  deep  sense 
of  responsibility  to  the  Church.  He  hoped  that  the  restric- 
tion would  be  taken  off,  for  it  was  misplaced  and  ill-timed  in 
a  case  like  the  one  before  them.  Some  had  said  that  they 
did  not  want  to  hear  much  from  the  men  of  the  North  ;  but 
he  would  not  like  to  give  his  vote  without  an  opportunity  of 
explaining  the  motives  under  which  he  gave  it.  There  was 
a.  future  pending  upon  this  discussion,  and  he  wanted  to  speak 
out  freely  and  fully.  Let  them  be  patient,  and  not  in  haste 
over  this  grave  deliberation.  He  hoped  they  would  take 
time  to  listen  to  each  other,  and  take  time,  also,  to  think 
and  pray  over  the  subject.  It  would  be  quite  time  enough 
to  come  back  to  the  fearful  issue  of  this  matter  if  they  debated 
it  three  days  or  three  weeks." 

After  much  debate  on  this  resolution,  Mr.  Finley, 
from  Ohio,  on  Thursday,  May  23d,  offered  the  follow- 
ing substitute  for  it : 

"  "Whereas  the  Discipline  of  our  Church  forbids  the 
doing  any  thing  calculated  to  destroy  our  itinerant  gen- 
eral  superintendency ;  and  whereas  Bishop  Andrew  has 
become  connected  with  slavery  by  marriage  and  other- 
wise, and  this  act  having  drawn  after  it  circumstances 


SPEECH     AT     THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE.    163 

which,  in  the  estimation  of  the  General  Conference, 
will  greatly  embarrass  the  exercise  of  his  office  as  an 
itinerant  general  superintendent,  if  not  in  some  places 
entirely  prevent  it;  therefore, 

"  Resolved,  That  it  is  the  sense  of  the  General  Con- 
ference that  he  desist  from  the  exercise  of  this  office 
so  long  as  this  impediment  remains." 

"  Dr.  Olin  rose  to  speak  on  Mr.  Finley's  substitute.  He 
referred  to  the  state  of  his  health,  which  always  disqualified 
him  for  long  sittings  in  Conference,  and  which,  under  the  add- 
ed pressure  of  an  afternoon  session,  admonished  him  that  he 
might  be  unable  to  be  present  throughout  the  entire  discus- 
sion— that  he  might  even  be  kept  away  at  the  final  vote,  a 
circumstance  which  he  should  much  regret.  '  This,'  said  Dr. 
Olin,  '  is  my  only  apology  for  seeking  so  early  an  opportunity 
for  the  expression  of  my  sentiments  on  the  general  question, 
to  which  I  will  now  proceed,  if  I  may  have  the  indulgence  of 
the  Conference.  May  I  be  allowed  first  to  offer  another  re- 
mark, which  I  could  wish  had  not,  like  the  last,  exclusive  ref- 
erence to  myself?  My  relation  to  this  subject  is  somewhat 
peculiar  and  most  painful.  It  is,  on  account  of  my  personal 
attachments  and  cherished  friendships,  a  delicate  subject, 
which,  if  it  were  compatible  with  my  duty,  and  I  could  feel 
at  liberty  to  do  so,  I  would  gladly  leave  to  other  hands  and 
heads.  Yet  the  very  delicacy  and  difficulty  of  my  position 
render  it  the  more  imperative  upon  me  to  give  an  explicit 
expression  of  my  views — the  more  so,  because  I  know  I  am 
regarded  by  many  as  hemmed  in  by  circumstances  so  unto- 
ward, that  I  am  likely  to  be  trammeled,  if  not  controlled,  in 
spite  of  myself.  Now  I  will  not  affirm  that  I  shall  be  ex- 
empt from  these  misleading  influences,  yet  will  I  promise  thus 
much — it  shall  be  my  aim  to  act  as  an  honest  man,  with  a 
single  eye  to  the  glory  of  God.  My  delicacies  are  not  all  on 
one  side.  They  press  upon  me  with  equal  force  on  all  sides, 


LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


and  so  leave  me  as  free  as  others,  it  may  be,  to  obey  the  dic- 
tates of  duty. 

"  '  I  give  to  the  substitute  offered  by  the  venerable  brother 
from  Ohio  a  decided  preference  over  the  original  resolution. 
I  feel  strong  objections  to  that  resolution,  and  no  less  to  the 
preamble.  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  the  discipline  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  contains,  or  is  meant  to  contain, 
any  provision  against  the  election  of  a  slave-holding  bishop, 
nor  do  I  believe  that  any  such  inference  is  fairly  deducible 
from  it.  I  must  hesitate,  therefore,  to  avow  such  a  doctrine. 
I  may  not  affirm  directly,  or  by  any  implication,  that  the  dis- 
cipline is  averse  to  the  election  of  a  slaveholder  to  that  of- 
fice. Now  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  conveyed  when  it  is 
said  that  such  an  election,  or  that  the  holding  of  slaves  by  a 
bishop,  is  contrary  to  the  "  settled  policy  and  usage"  of  the 
Church.  Since  the  organization  of  the  Federal  government 
on  its  present  basis,  the  office  of  president  has  been  occupied 
during  thirty-five  years  by  citizens  of  Virginia,  and  forty-three 
by  slaveholders,  while  that  high  honor  has  been  enjoyed  only 
twelve  years  by  Northern  statesmen.  Would  it  be  a  proper 
use  of  language  to  say  that,  in  the  "  settled  policy  and  usage" 
of  our  country,  the  office  of  president  should  be  for  the  most 
part  confined  to  Southern  men  ?  "  Usage"  carries,  to  some 
extent  at  least,  the  idea  of  common  law  and  acknowledged 
right  or  privilege.  In  this  sense  it  is  obviously  applica- 
ble to  the  case  in  hand.  We  have  hitherto  had  no  slave- 
holder for  bishop,  not  that  we  have  a  law  against  it,  but  be- 
cause the  non-slaveholding  candidates  have  always  received 
a  majority  of  the  votes.  The  majority  will  always  be  able 
to  judge  of  what  the  interests  or  sentiments  of  the  whole 
Church  from  time  to  time  may  demand,  and  such  a  declara- 
tion as  that  in  the  preamble  is  uncalled  for,  as  well  as  not 
strictly  true.  The  facts  alleged  as  the  ground  of  the  resolu- 
tion, if  true,  are  at  least  disputable,  as  we  have  the  best  pos- 
sible proof  in  the  discussions  and  explanations  to  which  we 


SPEECH     AT     THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE.    165 


have  just  listened.  They  are  not  matters  of  record,  or  his- 
tory, or  general  notoriety,  and  they  are  not  adapted  to  be 
the  basis  of  our  solemn  decision  in  a  case  of  such  grave  im- 
portance. 

"  '  I  do  not  like  the  issue  to  which  this  resolution  seeks  to 
lead  us.  I  do  not  wish,  by  any  act  or  vote  of  mine,  to  say  or 
insinuate  that  Bishop  Andrew  is  not  a  most  desirable  man 
for  the  episcopacy.  Undoubtedly,  under  the  pressure  of  our 
difficulties,  had  he  voluntarily  come  forward  and  done  what 
the  Conference  by  that  resolution  asks  him  to  do,  it  might 
have  been  the  best  way  to  relieve  us  from  the  embarrassment. 
At  least,  some  may  think  so.  But  I  doubt  the  propriety  of 
asking  him  to  do,  under  the  constraining  influence  of  our  vote, 
what,  if  done  at  all,  ought  to  be  done  voluntarily ;  for  it  might 
thus  be  understood  that,  even  if  he  were  free  from  this  em- 
barrassment, we  still  should  not  prefer  to  have  him  for  a 
bishop. 

"  '  I  look  upon  this  question,  after  all,  not  as  a  legal,  but  as 
a  great  practical  question  ;  and  my  views  are  quite  disem- 
barrassed from  constitutional  scruples  or  difficulties.  We 
came  to  this  General  Conference  from  the  North,  South,  East, 
and  West,  with  the  best  dispositions  in  all  parties  to  harmon- 
ize as  well  as  we  might,  and  to  make  the  least  of  our  differ- 
ences. There  were  few  symptoms  of  discontent  or  disaffec- 
tion, and  it  was  generally  thought  that  we  should  now  make 
a  satisfactory  settlement  of  our  difficulties,  and  go  home 
more  harmonious  than  ever  in  feeling  or  action.  I  had  good 
reason,  for  coming  to  this  conclusion.  I  knew,  or  thought  I 
knew,  the  feelings  of  my  brethren  in  the  North  and  East, 
and  I  had  enjoyed  a  pretty  free  correspondence  and  inter- 
course with  brethren  of  the  South ;  and  I  am  sure  we  all 
came  up  to  this  Conference  with  the  best  purposes  and  the 
best  hopes.  I  was  ill,  and  did  not  reach  the  Conference  at 
the  commencement,  and  it  was  not  until  I  had  taken  my  seat 
on  the  floor  and  heard  of  the  difficulties  which  surrounded 


166  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

us,  that  my  mind  was  robbed  of  these  hopes.  I  \vas  stunned 
and  overwhelmed  at  the  tidings,  and  in  ten  minutes  made  up 
my  mind  that  our  embarrassments  were  stupendous,  if  not 
insuperable.  I  have  since  made  diligent  inquiries  from  breth- 
ren as  to  the  actual  condition  and  sentiments  of  the  Northern 
Churches,  and  what  would  be  the  results  there  if  things  re- 
main as  they  are.  I  have,  for  the  most  part,  refrained  from 
going  to  the  men  who  have  taken  part  in  the  controversies 
that  have  agitated  us  hitherto,  because  I  thought  their  testi- 
mony, in  a  case  of  this  sort,  might  not,  perhaps,  be  so  much 
relied  upon  ;  but  I  have  addressed  my  inquiries  to  men  whom 
I  know  to  be  opponents  of  the  abolition  movement,  and  they 
concur  in  believing  that  this  is  precisely  the  state  of  things 
in  which  they  most  fear  to  return  home  to  their  flocks  ;  and 
they  declare  with  one  consent  that  the  difficulty  is  unman- 
ageable and  overwhelming.  I  hope  it  will  turn  out  in  the 
end  that  their  fears  outrun  the  reality.  But  I  confess  I  know 
not  where  to  look  for  testimony  in  this  matter  but  to  the  ac- 
credited, and  venerable,  and  discreet  representatives  of  the 
various  Conferences ;  and  I  repeat  that,  forming  my  conclu- 
sion on  this  ground,  our  most  prudent  men  do  regard  our 
present  condition  as  pregnant  with  danger,  and  as  threaten- 
ing manifold  disasters  and  disafFections  throughout  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church  ;  and,  after  making  what  allowance 
we  can  for  any  local  or  partial  view,  I  am  still  compelled  to 
regard  the  evil  as  a  great  and  portentous  one.  It  addresses 
itself  to  us  as  the  only  tribunal  having  the  legitimate  author- 
ity to  act  in  the  premises. 

"  'The  calamity  has  come  without  warning.  The  intelli- 
gence has  fallen  down  upon  us  like  a  thunder-bolt  from  a  se- 
rene sky  ;  but  we  must  grapple  with  the  difficulties.  It  is 
for  this  General  Conference  alone  to  dispose  of  them  in  some 
way.  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  this  Conference 
is  limited  in  its  action  by  constitutional  restrictions,  which  it 
may  not  transcend  for  the  removal  of  the  most  ruinous  evil. 


SPEECH     AT     THE     GENERAI,     CONFERENCE.     167 


I  can  conceive  of  questions  coining  up  here,  so  beset  with  le- 
gal and  constitutional  embarrassments,  that  this  General 
Conference  could  only  sweep  over  them,  and  give  such  coun- 
sel as  it  might  judge  proper.  If  there  ever  was  a  question 
beset  with  great  practical  difficulties,  surely  it  is  that  under 
which  we  now  groan ;  it  is  so  hedged  about  and  filled  with 
evils,  which  this  Conference  can  not  hope  to  prevent  or  cure. 
Yet  our  powers  are  so  great  as  to  allow  us  to  make  some  pro- 
vision against  them,  and,  to  some  extent  at  least,  meet  the 
wants  of  the  Church  in  this  great  emergency. 

".'  We  may  do  much,  and  we  may  make  many  arrangements 
in  regard  to  the  episcopacy  ;  but  our  powers  are  still  limited 
and  restricted  in  two  things.  We  can  not  do  away  with  the 
episcopacy  ;  we  can  not  infringe  upon  its  character  as  a  gen- 
eral superintendency.  Within  these  limits  it  seems  to  me 
that  we  have  large  powers — plenary  powers  for  carrying  out, 
through  the  episcopacy,  the  general  purposes  of  the  Confer- 
ence and  the  Church.  We  may  almost  do  what  we  will, 
avoiding  to  come  in  conflict  with  the  general  rules  and  the 
rights  of  individuals.  Unquestionably,  the  Conference  can 
not  touch  the  ministerial  rights  of  any  one  of  its  members  or 
officers.  I  believe  we  are  all  prepared  to  recognize  the  right 
of  Southern  brethren  to  hold  slaves  under  the  provisions  of 
the  Discipline.  We  shall  acknowledge  and  guarantee  the  en- 
tire of  the  privileges  and  immunities  of  all  parties  in  the 
Church.  1  here  declare,  that  if  a  remedy  should  be  proposed 
that  would  trench  on  the  constitutional  claims  of  Southern 
ministers,  I  would  not,  to  save  the  Church  from  any  possi- 
ble calamity,  violate  this  great  charter  of  our  rights.  I  am 
glad  of  the  opportunity  of  saying  that  no  man  who  is  a  Meth- 
odist, and  deserves  a  place  among  us,  can  call  in  question 
here  any  rights  secured  by  our  charter.  I  do  not  say  that 
he  may  not  be  a  very  honest  or  a  very  pious  man  who  doubts 
the  compatibility  of  slaveholding  on  the  conditions  of  the  Dis- 
cipline with  the  ministerial  office  ;  but  in  this  he  is  not  a 


168  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

Methodist.  He  may  be  a  very  good  man,  but  a  very  bad 
Methodist ;  and  if  such  a  man  doubts  if  the  Church  will  re- 
form, or  is  too  impatient  of  delay,  let  him,  as  I  would  in  his 
place,  do  as  our  friends  in  New  England  did  last  year,  go  to 
some  other  Church,  or  set  up  one  for  himself. 

"  '  Not  only  is  holding  slaves,  on  the  conditions  and  under  the 
restrictions  of  the  Discipline,  no  disqualification  for  the  min- 
isterial office,  but  I  will  go  a  little  further,  and  say  that  slave- 
holding  is  not  constitutionally  a  forfeiture  of  a  man's  right, 
if  he  may  be  said  to  have  one,  to  the  office  of  a  bishop.  The 
Church,  spread  out  through  all  the  land,  will  always  determ- 
ine for  itself  what  are  disqualifications  and  what  are  not,  and 
it  has  a  perfect  right  to  determine  whether  slaveholding,  or 
abolitionism,  or  any  other  fact,  shall  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion in  its  elections. 

"  '  These  are  my  principles.  I  have  never  doubted  with  re- 
gard to  them.  I  will  add,  that  I  can  never  give  a  vote  which 
does  violence  to  my  sentiments  in  regard  to  the  religious  as- 
pect of  the  subject.  I  here  declare  that  if  I  ever  saw  the 
graces  of  the  Christian  ministry  displayed  or  its  virtues  de- 
veloped, it  has  been  among  slaveholders.  I  wish  here  to 
divest  myself  of  what  to  some  may  seem  an  advantage  that 
does  not  belong  to  me.  I  would  not  conceal — I  avow  that  I 
was  a  slaveholder,  and  a  minister  at  the  South,  and  I  never 
dreamed  that  my  right  to  the  ministry  was  questionable,  or 
that  in  the  sight  of  God  I  was  less  fitted  to  preach  the  Gos- 
pel on  that  account.  And  if  the  state  of  my  health  had  not 
driven  me  away  from  that  region,  I  should  probably  have 
been  a  slaveholder  to  this  day.  In  this  day  of  reform  and 
manifold  suggestions,  I  go  further,  and  say  that  if  by  a  vote 
of  this  General  Conference  you  might  call  in  question  the 
right  of  our  Southern  brethren  to  the  ministry,  and  make 
their  claim  to  the  sacred  office  dependent  on  their  giving  im- 
mediate freedom  to  their  slaves,  I  do  not  think  that  that 
would  be  a  blessing  to  the  slaves  or  the  Church.  I  do  not 


SPEECH     AT     THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE.    169 

believe  the  slave  fares  worse  for  having  a  Christian  master, 
and  I  think  the  preachers  may  have  more  of  public  confidence 
on  our  present  plan.  I  know  these  opinions  may  by  some 
be  regarded  as  unsound,  and  I  make  them  not  because  they 
have  any  special  value  or  novelty,  but  because  I  profess  to 
speak  my  sentiments  freely. 

"  'With  regard  to  the  particular  case  before  us,  I  feel  con- 
strained to  make  one  or  two  remarks.  If  ever  there  was  a 
man  worthy  to  fill  the  episcopal  office  by  his  disinterested- 
ness, his  love  of  the  Church,  his  ardent,  melting  sympathy 
for  all  the  interests  of  humanity  ;  but,  above  all,  for  his  un- 
compromising and  unreserved  advocacy  of  the  interest  of  the 
slave — if  these  are  qualifications  for  the  office  of  a  bishop, 
then  James  0.  Andrew  is  pre-eminently  fitted  to  hold  that 
office.  I  know  him  well.  He  was  the  friend  of  my  youth  ; 
and  although  by  his  experience  and  position  fitted  to  be  a 
father,  yet  he  made  me  a  brother,  and  no  man  has  more  fully 
shared  my  sympathies  or  more  intimately  known  my  heart 
for  these  twenty  years.  His  house  has  been  my  home  ;  on 
his  bed  have  I  lain  in  sickness,  and  he,  with  his  sainted 
wife  now  in  heaven,  has  been  my  comforter  and  nurse.  No 
question  under  heaven  could  have  presented  itself  so  painfully 
oppressive  to  my  feelings  as  the  one  now  before  us.  If  I  had 
a  hundred  votes,  and  Bishop  Andrew  were  not  pressed  by  the 
difficulties  which  now  rest  upon  him — without  any  wrong  in- 
tention on  his  part,  I  am  sure — he  is  the  man  to  whom  I  would 
give  them  all.  I  know  no  man  who  has  been  so  bold  an  ad- 
vocate for  the  interest  of  the  slaves ;  and  when  I  have  been 
constrained  to  refrain  from  saying  what,  perhaps,  I  should 
have  said,  I  have  heard  him  at  camp-meetings  and  other 
public  occasions  call  fearlessly  on  masters  to  see  to  the  spir- 
itual and  temporal  interests  of  their  slaves  as  a  high  Chris- 
tian duty.  Excepting  one  honored  brother,  whose  name  will 
hereafter  be  recorded  as  one  of  the  greatest  benefactors  of  the 
African  race,  I  know  of  no  man  who  has  done  so  much  for 
IT.  H 


170  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

the  slave  as  Bishop  Andrew.  I  know,  sir,  I  am  not  speak- 
ing to  the  question ;  but  I  am  stating  facts — facts  which  I 
am  sure  will  lead  brethren  to  act  with  caution  and  tender- 
ness in  this  business. 

"  '  It  will  be  readily  inferred  from  what  I  have  said,  that  if 
we  can  not  act  without  calling  in  question  the  rights  of  the 
Southern  brethren,  we  had  better,  in  my  opinion,  not  act  at 
all ;  for  I  believe  it  would  be  better  to  submit  to  the  great- 
est calamities  than  infringe  upon  our  own  constitution.  Yet 
it  seems  to  me  that  we  are  not  shut  up  to  such  a  disastrous 
course,  and  that  we  may  so  dispose  of  this  case  as  to  escape 
both  these  difficulties.  We  can  not  punish.  I  would  not 
vote  for  any  resolution  that  would  even  censure  ;  and  yet, 
with  the  powers  that  confessedly  belong  to  the  General  Con- 
ference, I  trust  some  measure  may  be  adopted  that  may  great- 
ly palliate  and  diminish,  if  it  can  not  wholly  avert,  the  dan- 
gers that  threaten  us.  The  substitute  now  proposed  I  regard 
as  such  a  measure.  In  it  this  General  Conference  expresses 
its  wish  and  will  that  under  existing  circumstances,  meaning 
by  that  word  not  merely  the  fact  that  Bishop  Andrew  has 
become  a  slaveholder,  but  the  state  of  the  Church,  the  sen- 
timents that  prevail — the  excitement  and  the  deep  fe'eling 
of  the  people  on  the  subject — feeling,  it  may  be,  which  dis- 
qualifies them  for  calm,  dispassionate  views  in  the  premises 
— that  under  these  circumstances  it  is  the  wish  and  will  of 
the  brethren  of  this  Conference  that  Bishop  Andrew,  against 
whom  we  bring  no  charge — on  whose  fair  character  we  fix 
no  reproach — should  for  the  present  refrain  from  the  exercise 
of  his  episcopal  functions.  This  resolution  proposes  no  pun- 
ishment. It  does  not  censure.  It  expresses  no  opinion  of 
the  bishop's  conduct.  It  only  seeks  to  avert  disastrous  re- 
sults, by  the  exercise  of  the  conservative,  of  the  self-preserv- 
ing powers  of  this  Conference. 

"  '  If  the  brethren  who  occupy  the  extreme  positions  in 
this  question  seek  rather  to  allay  than  excite  the  fever  of 


SPEECH    AT    THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE.    171 

feeling,  we  will  yet  hope — even  allow  me  to  believe — that 
these  difficulties  may  be  removed.  I  had  even  thought,  if 
we  could  so  manage  this  question  as  to  avoid  casting  any  re- 
flections upon  the  South  ;  if  we  could  hold  Bishop  Andrew 
without  an  impeachment ;  if  we  are  careful  to  save  that  point 
as  far  as  possible,  I  have  confidence  that  whenever  he  believes 
he  can  do  it  without  compromising  a  principle,  which,  I  know, 
in  the  present  situation,  he  feels  himself  called  upon  to  repre- 
sent and  maintain — if  we  could  save  that  point,  and  hold  up 
a  shield  over  the  interests  dearer  to  him  and  others  than  his 
own  life  even — I  do  not  allow  myself  to  despair  that,  as  soon 
as  circumstances  will  allow,  and  difficulties  now  insuperable 
shall  be  removed,  he  will  be  ready  to  make  great  sacrifices 
for  the  general  good  of  the  Church.  I  have  no  right  to  say 
so  ;  I  only  give  it  as  my  conviction,  that  if  he  can  possibly 
relieve  us  of  our  embarrassment,  he  will.  My  confidence  in 
the  man  is  such  that  I  have  no  hesitation  in  asserting  this, 
I  look  at  this  proposition  not  as  a  punishment  of  any  grade 
or  sort.  It  is  as  if  you  were  to  say  to  Dr.  Peck,  your  editor, 
who  for  some  cause  might  have  become  unpopular,  "You  are 
our  agent — circumstances  are  at  present  unfavorable  to  your 
exercising  your  functions,  and  in  the  exertion  of  our  just  dis- 
cretion in  the  case,  and  because  your  want  of  favor  with  the 
public  interferes  with  the  success  of  that  department  over 
which  you  are  placed,  we  withdraw  you  for  the  present  from 
this  particular  field  of  duty.  We  do  not  censure  you,  and  we 
cordially  retain  you  in  the  ranks  of  our  ministry."  I  am  not 
learned  in  constitutional  law.  It  is,  perhaps,  for  want  of  lar- 
ger experience  that  this  is  the  only  view  I  am  able  to  take 
of  this  subject,  at  which,  however,  I  think  I  have  arrived  by 
a  course,  I  will  not  say  of  sound  argument,  but  by  natural 
and  easy  approaches.  With  my  constitutional  views,  I  am 
allowed  to  inquire  in  this  case,  which  course  will  do  the  least 
harm  ?  And  I  believe  that  proposed  by  this  substitute  to  be 
a  constitutional  measure  dishonorable  to  none.  As  such,  I 


172  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

should  wish  it  to  go  forth,  with  the  solemn  declaration  of  this 
General  Conference  that  we  do  not  design  it  as  a  punishment 
or  a  censure  ;  that  it  is,  in  our  apprehension,  only  a  pruden- 
tial and  expedient  measure,  calculated  to  avert  the  great 
evils  that  threaten  us. 

"  '  I  know  the  difficulties  of  the  South.  I  know  the  excite- 
ment that  is  likely  to  prevail  among  the  people  there.  Yet, 
allowing  our  worst  fears  all  to  be  realized,  the  South  will 
have  this  advantage  over  us — the  Southern  Conferences  are 
likely,  in  any  event,  to  harmonize  among  themselves — they 
will  form  a  compact  body.  In  our  Northern  Conferences  this 
will  be  impossible,  in  the  present  state  of  things.  They  can 
not  bring  their  whole  people  to  act  together  on  one  common 
ground  ;  stations  and  circuits  will  be  so  weakened  and  broken 
as,  in  many  instances,  to  be  unable  to  sustain  their  ministiy. 
I  speak  on  this  point  in  accordance  with  the  conviction  of  my 
own  judgment,  after  having  traveled  three  thousand  miles 
through  the  New  England  and  New  York  Conferences,  that, 
if  some  action  is  not  had  on  this  subject  calculated  to  hold 
out  hope — to  impart  a  measure  of  satisfaction  to  the  people — 
there  will  be  distractions  and  divisions  ruinous  to  souls,  and 
fatal  to  the  permanent  interests  of  the  Church. 

'"I  feel,  sir,  that  if  this  great  difficulty  shall  result  in  sep- 
aration from  our  Southern  brethren,  we  lose  not  our  right  hand 
merely,  but  our  very  heart's  blood.  Over  such  an  event  I 
should  not  cease  to  pour  out  my  prayers  and  tears  as  over  a 
grievous  and  unmitigated  calamity.  It  was  in  that  part  of 
our  Zion  that  God,  for  Christ's  sake,  converted  my  soul. 
There  I  first  entered  on  the  Christian  ministry.  From 
thence  come  the  beloved,  honored  brethren  who  now  surround 
me,  with  whom  and  among  whom  I  have  labored,  and  suf- 
fered, and  rejoiced,  and  seen  the  doings  of  the  right  hand  of 
the  Son  of  God.  If  the  day  shall  come  when  we  must  be 
separated  by  lines  of  demarcation,  I  shall  yet  think  often  of 
those  beyond  with  the  kindest,  warmest  feelings  of  an  honest 


SPEECH     AT     THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE.    173 


Christian  heart.  But,  sir,  I  will  yet  trust  that  we  may  put 
far  off  this  evil  day.  If  we  can  pass  such  a  measure  as  will 
shield  our  principles  from  all  infringement — if  we  can  send 
forth  such  a  measure  as  will  neither  injure  nor  justly  offend 
the  South — as  shall  neither  censure  nor  dishonor  Bishop  An- 
drew, and  yet  shall  meet  the  pressing  wants  of  the  Church, 
and,  above  all,  if  Almighty  God  shall  be  pleased  to  help  by 
pouring  out  his  Spirit  upon  us,  we  may  yet  avoid  the  rock  on 
which  we  now  seem  but  too  likely  to  split. 

"  '  I  will  add  one  word  in  reference  to  what  has  been  so  oft- 
en repeated  about  the  abolition  excitement  in  New  England 
and  the  North.  I  have  never  thought  it  a  good  thing  to  in- 
troduce agitation  into  the  Church.  I  have  thought  it  better, 
so  far  as  practicable,  to  keep  clear  from  all  controversies,  and 
for  myself  have  felt  bound  to  do  so.  I  have  been  kept  from 
taking  any  part  in  the  great  abolition  controversy  by  the  ar- 
rangements of  Providence  ;  but  I  must  declare  that  the  in- 
terests, the  purposes,  the  measures  which  seem  at  this  time 
to  unite  the  North  in  sympathy  have  not  originated  with  ab- 
olitionists, usually  so  called.  The  concern  felt  on  the  subject 
now  before  us  is  much  more  general.  The  New  York  Con- 
ference, of  which  I  was  made  a  member  when  abroad,  and 
without  my  knowledge,  was  never  an  abolition  Conference. 
Some  of  my  friends,  members  of  that  Conference,  and  them- 
selves decided  abolitionists,  have  complained  to  me  of  the 
action  of  that  body,  in  suspending  some  young  preachers  for 
their  activity  in  the  abolition  cause,  as  flagrantly  tyrannical 
and  unjust.  The  Troy  Conference  is  not  an  abolition  Con- 
ference, and  never  was.  These  and  other  Northern  Confer- 
ences have  firmly  opposed  the  abolition  movement.  They 
have  been  as  a  wall  of  brass  to  turn  back  the  strong  tide, 
and  protect  the  Southern  rights  and  interests. 

"  '  Ministers  and  laymen,  in  some  portions  of  our  work, 
have  agitated  this  question  in  their  Conferences  and  Church- 
es, but  generally  Northern  Methodists  have  been  opposed  to 


174  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

such  action.  They  commonly  regard  slavery  as  a  great  evil, 
though  not  necessarily  a  sin ;  but  it  would  be  a  great  mis- 
take to  conclude  that  the  anti-slavery  sentiments  of  Method- 
ists have  been  wholly  or  mostly  the  fruits  of  Church  action 
or  agitation.  Brethren  fall  into  a  great  error  in  imagining 
that  all  the  abolition  influences  abroad  in  the  Northern 
Churches  originated  in  them.  On  the  contrary,  our  common 
newspapers,  the  contests  and  canvassings  connected  with  our 
elections,  our  periodical  literature,  are  rife  with  abolitionism 
on  other  and  broader  grounds.  It  is  perhaps  to  be  regretted 
that  this  embarrassing  subject  is  so  much  discussed  at  the 
North ;  but  it  is  certainly  true  that  Methodists  here  derive 
their  sentiments  chiefly  from  such  sources  as  I  have  intima- 
ted— from  their  reading,  and  from  their  intercourse  with  their 
fellow-citizens.  They  are  abolitionists  naturally  and  inevi- 
tably, because  they  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  this  country — 
because  the  sea  is  open  to  free  adventure — their  freighted 
ships  bring  home  periodicals  and  books  from  all  the  countries 
of  Europe  tinged,  or,  if  any  prefer,  infected  with  these  views. 
The  difficulties  of  this  question,  then,  do  hot  arise  chiefly 
from  its  relation  to  abolitionism  in  the  Church,  but  from  the 
general  tone  of  feeling  among  the  people  of  the  non-slave- 
holding  states. 

"  '  I  trust,  sir,  that,  in  pronouncing  our  sentiments  on  the 
subject  under  consideration,  we  shall  not  regard  ourselves  as 
acting  for  distinct  and  antagonistic  interests — that  we  shall 
not  inquire  whether  we  may  inflict  an  injury  on  one  portion 
of  the  Church,  regarded  by  itself,  and  no  doubt  justly,  as  ever 
mindful  of  its  constitutional  obligations,  to  save  another  por- 
tion from  evils  engendered  in  the  hot-bed  of  abolitionism — 
part  of  the  Church  ever  ready  to  trample  down  constitutional 
barriers,  and  remove  old  landmarks  and  securities. 

"  'That  is  not  the  true  issue  ;  for  in  four  fifths  of  the  anti- 
slavery  Conferences,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rest,  there  have  been 
no  agitations,  no  seeds  of  abolition  sown,  but  the  people  have 


SPEECH     AT     THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE.    175 

formed  their  opinions  as  citizens  of  the  country,  and,  not- 
withstanding these  convictions  on  the  subject,  they  have  as 
tender  a  regard  for  the  interests  of  the  Church  as  any  of  their 
brethren.  As  a  member  of  the  New  York  Conference,  I  do 
most  earnestly  protest  against  any  declaration  which  shall  go 
forth  before  the  world  affirming  or  intimating  that  the  New 
York  Conference,  as  such,  has  at  all  meddled  in  this  matter, 
except  to  prevent  apprehended  evil,  and  to  perform  what  it 
regarded  as  a  pressing,  though  painful,  duty  to  the  whole 
Church.  I  will  only  say  further,  that  in  our  action  in  the 
case  of  a  venerable  and  beloved  bishop  we  have  trouble  and 
sorrow  enough  heaped  upon  us — Pelioifron  Ossa — afflictions 
on  afflictions.  Let  not,  then,  this  drop  of  bitterness  be  wrung 
into  the  cup  which  we  are  compelled  to  drink.  Let  it  not 
be  said  that  we  are  groaning  under  the  pressure  of  difficulties 
arising  from  an  agitation  which  we  have  got  up  and  can  not 
now  allay.  Let  it  not  be  said  that  we  are  now  suffering 
the  consequences  of  our  unconstitutional  meddling  with  the 
subject  of  slavery ;  that  the  seed  sown  by  us  has  sprung  up, 
and  we  are  now  reaping  the  harvest.  As  a  delegate  from 
the  New  York  Conference,  I  sympathize  with  its  honor  ;  and 
I  declare,  before  heaven  and  earth,  that  it  is  no  fault  of  that 
body  of  ministers  that  we  are  now  pressed  down  with  such  a 
burden  of  difficulties.  Sir,  there  are  men  in  this  Conference 
Avho  have  suffered  much  in  vindicating  what  they  regarded 
as  the  rights  of  the  South.  My  venerable  friend  on  my  right 
has,  on  this  account,  received  great  and  unmerited  obloquy. 
Another  excellent  minister  on  my  left,  and  many  more  not 
now  in  my  eye,  have  been  reproached  as  pro-slavery  men  and 
men-stealers,  for  the  part  they  thought  it  their  duty  to  take 
against  the  ultra  view  and  measures  that  threatened  to  pre- 
vail a  few  years  ago.  They  have  deserved  well — I  think 
they  have  merited  the  thanks  —  of  Southern  brethren  for 
their  earnest  efforts  to  shield  them  and  their  rights  against 
encroachments  on  the  constitution  of  the  Church. 


176  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

"  '  Sir,  I  have  done.  I  do  not  pretend  to  have  succeeded  in 
making  a  constitutional  argument.  My  object  was  to  do 
my  duty  in  stating,  as  well  as  I  was  able,  the  just  and  proper 
grounds  of  the  proposed  resolution.'  " 

It  may  readily  be  imagined  that  the  following  spon- 
taneous expressions  of  affectionate  attachment  that  fell 
from  the  lips  of  one  of  his  Southern  brethren  in  the 
course  of  the  ensuing  debate  called  forth  responses  in 
his  own  warm  heart.  Rev.  Gr.  F.  Pierce  remarked, 
"  That  there  was  an  honored  representative  of  the  New 
York  Conference,  <tvho  favored  us  with  his  opinions  a 
few  days  ago,  whom  he  had  loved  from  his  early  boy- 
hood, and  never  more  so  than  now.  I  take  this  occasion 
to  assure  him  that,  whatever  may  be  his  vote  on  this 
trying  question  (and  I  estimate  all  the  delicacies  of  his 
position),  he  will  still  remain  enshrined  in  the  fervid 
affections  of  a  heart  too  warm  to  speak  prudently  on 
an  occasion  like  this." 

On  the  Thursday  after  he  spoke  on  the  substitute,  he 
wrote  to  his  wife  : 

cvi. 

It  is  so  important  to  me  to  watch  the  great 
question  at  issue,  that  I  can  do  nothing  else.  I  am  to  preach 
to-night  in  Brooklyn.  I  fear  the  consequences,  but  mean  to 
be  prudent.  The  torturing  question  is  still  on  our  hands,  and 
the  prospect  does  not  brighten.  We  came  near  a  vote  to-day, 
and  may,  perhaps,  reach  one  to-morrow  on  the  "  substitute," 
which  will  probably  pass,  and  then  will  follow,  in  due  time 
at  least,  the  realization  of  all  our  fears.  I  am  worn  down 
with  agony  of  mind,  with  efforts  and  tears,  which  yet  are  all 
in  vain.  To  God  I  desire  to  commit  all  in  the  spirit  of  faith. 
It  is  delightful,  amid  so  many  causes  of  sorrow,  to  be  able  to 
speak  favorably  of  the  general  temper  and  Christian  feeling 
of  the  Conference. 


THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1844.  177 

He  writes : 

CVII.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 

New  York,  May  31st,  1844. 

.  We  are  full  of  uncomfortable  difficulties  in  our 
General  Conference.  There  is  much  calmness  and  good  tem- 
per, but  no  light.  The  general  feeling  against  slavery  is  so 
strong  in  the  North  and  West,  that  all  the  delegates  agree 
that  it  would  be  impracticable  for  Bishop  Andrew  to  exercise 
his  functions  at  present.  The  Southern  brethren  affirm,  with 
equal  unanimity,  that  they  can  not  allow  him  to  desist  with- 
out ruin  to  their  cause.  Both  parties,  I  have  reason  to  know, 
represent  the  real  condition  of  their  work.  I  am  satisfied 
that  the  evil  is  beyond  the  reach  of  a  remedy,  and  incompati- 
ble with  our  unity.  The  only  proper  question  before  us  is 
the  best  way  of  palliating  an  evil  in  itself  inevitable.  I 
never  saw  so  dark  a  day.  May  God  direct  us.  If  we  may 
not  dwell  together,  may  we,  at  least,  part  as  brethren. 

On  the  first  of  June,  after  a  protracted  debate,  Mr. 
Finley's  substitute  passed  the  Conference  by  a  vote 
of  110  yeas  to  68  nays.  The  votes  were  given  amid 
the  most  profound  stillness,  Dr.  Olin  voting  with  the 
New  York  Conference  delegation  in  favor  of  the  sub- 
stitute. After  some  discussion  on  the  precise  import 
of  the  language  of  this  substitute,  Dr.  Olin,  having 
spoken  on  the  subject,  embodied  his  sentiments  in  the 
form  of  resolutions,  which,  however,  he  did  not  press 
on  the  Conference : 

"  Resolved,  That  this  Conference  does  not  consider 
its  action  in  the  case  of  Bishop  Andrew  as  either  ju- 
dicial or  punitive,  but  as  a  prudential  regulation  for 
the  security  and  welfare  of  the  Church. 

"  Resolved,  That  having  made  a  solemn  declaration 
of  what  in  its  judgment  the  safety  and  peace  of  the 

H2 


178  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


Church  require,  it  is  not  necessary  or  proper  to  express 
any  opinion  as  to  what  amount  of  respect  may  just- 
ly belong  to  its  action  in  the  premises.  He  did  not 
mean  to  affirm  or  deny  the  right  of  the  Conference  to 
express  its  opinion ;  but  in  what  was  designed  to  affect 
the  character  of  another,  it  should  not  do  that  which  it 
became  only  a  judicial  tribunal  to  do.  The  functions 
of  the  bishop  should  not  be  interrupted ;  that  belongs 
to  the  power  before  whom  he  may  hereafter  be  brought, 
and  who  are  the  proper  parties  to  explain  the  mean- 
ing of  this  resolution." 

On  the  5th  of  June  he  wrote  to  his  wife : 

CVIII. 

•.  You  may  have  heard  that  we  came  to  our  final 

vote  on.  the  bishop's  case  on  Saturday,  between  twelve  and 
one.  It  was  such  an  hour  as  I  hope  never  to  witness  again — 
such  an  one  as  few  have  ever  seen.  You  know  the  purport 
of  Finley's  substitute,  which  was  passed  by  a  vote  of  110  to 
68.  It  expresses  the  "  sense"  of  the  Conference,  that  Bishop 
Andrew  should  desist  from  duties  during  the  existence  of  his 
impediments.  The  bishops  had  offered  a  plan  to  postpone 
the  whole  thing  for  four  years,  which  was  laid  on  the  table 
under  the  strong  convictiou  that  it  could  have  no  other  ef- 
fect than  to  distract  the  Church  so  long.  The  South  seemed 
surprised  at  the  vote,  which  I  had  supposed  they  all  expect- 
ed. They  gave  notice  of  their  intention  to  protest,  and  had 
a  meeting  in  the  lecture-room  of  the  deepest  feeling,  as  I  un- 
derstand. Bishop  Andrew  took  leave  then  and  there,  and 
left  for  Georgia.  The  sentiment  of  regret  and  sympathy  is 
all-powerful  here.  Many  of  the  laity  take  a  lively  part  in 
his  favor,  and  a  public  meeting  may  not  improbably  be  held 
in  one  of  the  churches  to-day.  I  fear  some  further  days  of 
excitement  in  and  out  of  the  Conference,  though  I  can  not 


THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE     OF     1844.     179 

anticipate  any  change  or  modification  of  the  measure,  regarded 
by  all  who  voted  as  indispensable  to  the  safety  of  the  North- 
ern Church.  I  expect  all  sorts  of  trouble  in  consequence  ; 
but  I  think  we  have  done  the  best  we  could.  The  South,  in 
effect,  declined  .all  compromise  ;  they  thought  they  could  bear 
none.  I  think,  as  I  all  along  have  thought,  that  we  shall 
be  compelled  to  divide.  A  day  or  two  more  will  more  fully 
test  the  temper  of  all  parties.  I  know  not  what  could  bribe 
me  to  pass  through  three  other  weeks  like  the  three  last.  I 
have  no  comfort  but  in  the  reflection  that  I  have  done  my 
duty,  as  far  as  I  knew  it,  at  the  greatest  possible  sacrifice. 

He  was  present  when  the  plan  for  the  peaceable  di- 
vision of  the  Church  was  proposed,  and  he  was  ap- 
pointed one  of  a  committee  of  three  to  consider  the 
protest  of  the  Southern  Conferences ;  but,  exhausted 
with  anxiety  and  fatigue,  he  was  obliged  by  illness  to 
leave  the  exciting  scenes  of  the  Conference,  and  another 
was  chosen  in  his  place. 

From  Middletown  he  wrote  to  his  brother,  on  the 
10th  of  June : 

cix. 

I  had  no  opportunity  to  write  to  you  from  New  York 
The  pressure  of  business  inflicted  by  the  General  Conference 
left  me  neither  strength,  nor  spirit,  nor  any  thing  else.  1 
got  home  on  Saturday,  having  reached  a  point  of  depression 
which  left  me  no  chance  of  being  able  to  attend  to  business 
another  day,  though  questions  and  interests,  which  it  was 
painful  as  well  as  mortifying  to  leave,  were  on  hand. 

You  will  have  heard  through  the  papers,  as  well  as  through 
your  delegates,  of  the  painful  scenes  through  which  we  pass- 
ed at  the  General  Conference.  The  deplorable  result,  too, 
you  know — inevitable  division.  A  good  spirit,  on  the  whole, 
prevailed  with  all  parties  ;  but  we  were  shut  up  to  our  fate. 


180  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

Circumstances  were  uncontrollable.  Public  sentiment  was 
equally  stern  North  and  South,  and  I  inclined  to  think  that 
there  was  no  ground  of  compromise  attainable.  God  may 
overrule  all  to  his  own  glory.  For  this,  at  least,  we  are  now 
called  to  pray  and  hope. 

My  position  in  reference  to  the  question  and  the  parties 
was  inexpressibly  delicate  and  painful.  I  have,  of  course,  lost 
friends  on  one  side,  without  gaining  them  any  where  else.  I 
was  put  into  a  strait,  where  the  discharge  of  my  duty  must 
needs  cost  me  great  sacrifices.  It  is,  perhaps,  well  for  the 
trial  of  faith  and  integrity  to  be  fixed  in  such  a  position.  I 
have  no  satisfaction  in  looking  back  upon  the  dark  scene  be- 
yond that  of  a  consciousness  of  trying  to  do  my  duty  irrespect- 
ive of  personal  considerations.  Bishop  Andrew  was  surely 
the  most  unfortunate  of  good  men.  The  harm  which  so  sim- 
ple an  act  as  marrying  a  good  woman  must  achieve  can  only 
be  estimated  when  the  history  of  the  present  age  shall  be 
written. 

The  part  Dr.  Olin  took  in  the  deliberations  of  the 
General  Conference  has  been  shown  by  his  own  words, 
and  by  the  minutes  of  the  Conference.  These,  as  well 
as  the  recollections  of  the  brethren  associated  with  him 
from  day  to  day,  bear  witness  to  the  fervency  of  his 
desires  for  Christian  love  and  fellowship,  to  the  deep 
earnestness  with  which  he  endeavored  to  strengthen 
the  bands  of  unity,  and  to  the  prayerful,  tender,  and 
conscientious  spirit  which  characterized  his  conduct 
throughout  those  weeks  of  deep  searchings  of  heart. 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  the  morning,"  said  one  of  the 
Northern  delegates,  "  when,  in  a  retired  pew  of  the  Con- 
ference-room, communing  on  this  melancholy  subject 
with  the  great  and  meek  Dr.  Olin,  that  excellent  man, 
his  countenance  bearing  an  aspect  of  unutterable  mel- 


THE     GENERAL     CONFERENCE     OF     1844.    181 

ancholy,  whispered, '  Brother  A.,  I  would  gladly  lay  my 
head  upon  the  block  this  very  day  to  save  the  union  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.'" 

"With  regard  to  the  character  of  the  proceedings, 
from  first  to  last,"  said  Dr.  Capers,  "  as  it  regards  the 
spirit  and  temper  of  the  members  of  the  late  Gener- 
al Conference  during  the  deeply  agitating  discussions 
which  arose  on  the  questions  which  divided  us- — I  do 
not  believe  that  any  one  can  point  to  a  single  incident 
which  might  warrant  a  word  of  reproach  against  that 
body  of  holy  men.  They  were  sometimes,  perhaps, 
frequently  wanting  as  to  etiquette  in  the  eagerness  of 
individuals  to  get  the  floor,  but  neither  their  speeches, 
nor  their  personal  intercourse  in  Conference,  in  com- 
mittees, or  in  private,  can  be  adduced  to  prove  any 
thing  more  as  to  their  spirit  or  temper  than  that  they 
honestly  differed  in  judgment,  while  their  hearts  were 
strictly  right  at  all  times." 


182  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD  FRIENDS— BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS— NIAGARA— SERMON  AT 
THE  GENESEE  CONFERENCE. 

IN  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1844,  Dr.  Olin  had 
the  pleasure  of  a  visit  from  dear  friends — his  brother- 
in-law,  Colonel  Howard,  of  Columbus,  Greorgia,  and  his 
two  daughters.  It  afforded  him,  also,  high  gratifica- 
tion to  welcome  to  his  own  home  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wight- 
man,  one  of  his  early  Southern  friends.  Mrs.  Wight- 
man,  and  the  Rev.  William  Martin  and  his  wife,  of  Co- 
lumbia, South  Carolina,  spent  part  of  the  summer  at 
Middletown ;  and  Mrs.  Martin's  ready  pen  recorded 
some  vivid  reminiscences  of  Dr.  Olin  in  the  pulpit. 
The  gentleman  from  the  West,  to  whom  she  alludes  in 
the  following  extract,  was  a  fellow-student  of  Dr.  Olin's 
at  Middlebury.  Deeply  moved  by  the  sermon,  the  first 
he  had  heard  from  him,  he  waited  in  the  last  pew,  in 
the  middle  aisle,  to  grasp  his  hand.  Dr.  Olin,  silent 
and  absorbed  as  he  usually  was  immediately  after 
preaching,  did  not  recognize  his  old  friend  in  the  group 
under  the  gallery,  and,  with  a  mere  passing  salutation, 
moved  on.  As  he  ascended  the  hill  near  his  house, 
however,  the  face,  with  its  by-gone  associations,  flashed 
upon  him.  The  next  day,  having  ascertained  where 
he  was  to  be  found,  he  rode  out  with  his  wife  to  West- 
field,  to  see  Mr.  W.  Warm  greetings  and  satisfactory 
explanations  there  were  with  the  friends.  Mr.  W.  had 
been  drawn  to  the  Church  by  the  announcement  that 
Dr.  Olin  was  to  preach,  and  with  feelings  glowing  with 


DILIGENCE     IN     BUSINESS.  183 

early  reminiscences,  and  the  new  and  powerful  im- 
pulses communicated  to  him,  he  had  been  chilled  and 
disheartened  by  the  cool  indifference  with  which  his 
salutations  had  been  received. 

"  This  visit  to  New  England,"  says  Mrs.  Martin,  "  formed, 
indeed,  an  epoch  in  my  life.  It  was  at  this  time  that  I  first 
heard  him  preach.  What  impression  his  first  sermon  made 
upon  my  mind  will  be  best  understood  by  an  extract  from  a 
notice  of  it  at  the  time. 

"  What  a  sermon  we  have  just  heard  from  him  !  how  he 
threw  into  it  the  whole  energy  of  his  powerful  mind.  It 
seemed  to  me  I  had  been  hearing  Paul.  It  was  a  giant  ser- 
mon, just  as  different  from  other  men's  sermons  as  his  per- 
sonal appearance  is  different — just  as  much  greater  as  his 
body  is  larger.  The  text  was,  '  Not  slothful  in  business,  fer- 
vent in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord.'  One  would  think  there 
was  no  room  for  much  display  of  eloquence  in  that  plain  mat- 
ter-of-fact text,  and  neither  there  was,  if  eloquence  consists 
in  flowers,  and  tropes,  and  gesticulations  ;  but  true  eloquence 
is  the  power  of  deep,  high,  concentrated,  earnest  thought  and 
feeling ;  and  here  it  was.  How  he  drew  the  character  of 
the  listless,  inefficient,  never-giving,  never-doing  speculatist ! 
How  he  contrasted  him  with  the  useful,  energetic,  munificent, 
liberal-minded,  liberal-handed  business  man  !  The  man  of 
leisure,  always  oppressed  by  business  :  the  man  of  business, 
always  with  time  at  his  disposal.  As  a  proof  of  the  practical 
bearing  of  the  discourse — a  gentleman,  traveling  and  passing 
the  Sabbath  at  Middletown,  chanced  to  hear  this  sermon. 
He  had  been  a  man  of  business  somewhere  in  the  West,  and 
had  acquired  a  considerable  fortune  by  dint  of  his  diligence 
in  business  ;  but  now,  determined  to  retire  to  a  life  of  elegant 
leisure,  he  was  in  quest  of  some  quiet  place  of  sojourn,  where 
he  might  enjoy  his  fortune  and  his  ease  together,  but  this  ser- 
mon of  Olin's,  as  he  affirmed,  had  completely  changed  his 


184  LIFE*   AND     LETTERS. 

views;  he  meant  now  to  return  with  renewed  zest  to  that 
business  so  nearly  deserted  ;  he  would  be  a  working  man  as 
long  as  he  might  live,  a»d  have  health  and  strength  granted 
him,  convinced  that  to  be  a  working  man  is  the  surest  way 
of  becoming  a  working  Christian. 

"  Dr.  Olin,  in  his  devotions,  gave  me  more  sensibly  the 
idea  than  I  had  ever  had  before  of  a  wrestling  in  prayer.  A 
pulpit  of  medium  height  concealed  but  little  of  his  gigantic 
frame  from  the  congregation.  Before  the  sermon,  when  en- 
gaged in  private  prayer  in  the  pulpit,  it  was  with  a  species 
of  solemn  awe  that  I  saw  those  herculean  arms  beseechingly 
raised  to  heaven,  and  those  prodigious  hands  grasping  as  at  the 
impending  blessing,  every  movement  of  those  powerful  mus- 
cles agitated  and  strained  to  their  utmost  tension,  as  if  giving 
energy  to  the  language  of  his  soul :  '  I  will  not  let  thee  go 
until  thou  bless  me.'  And  that  he  carne  off  more  than  con- 
queror from  that  intense  spiritual  conflict,  through  Him  that 
loved  him  and  gave  him  the  victory,  who  that  beheld  that 
countenance,  effulgent  from  the  recent  communication  of  the 
Divine  glory,  or  listened  to  those  burning  words  from  lips  just 
touched  as  by  a  live  coal  from  off  the  altar,  could  for  a  mo- 
ment doubt  ?  Oh,  if  such  as  he,  head  and  shoulders,  intel- 
lectually as  physically,  above  his  brethren,  felt  the  necessity 
of  taking  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  by  violence,  that  he  might 
thereby  '  take  of  the  things  of  God  and  show  them  unto  us,' 
how  much  need  have  they  of  smaller  gifts,  to  seek  for  even 
larger  grace  !" 

The  circumstances  of  his  position  did  not  allow  Dr. 
Olin  to  remain  at  home  and  devote  himself  to  the  in- 
ternal economy  of  the  college,  as  he  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  do.  His  earnest  desire  to  place  the  college 
on  a  permanent  basis  sent  him  continually  abroad,  and 
his  cheerful,  pretty  home  was  merely  an  occasional  halt- 
ing-place, so  frequent  were  his  journeys  this  summer. 


BACCALAUREATE     ADDRESS.  185 

He  visited  in  their  turn  the  several  annual  Conferences 
in  New  England  and  New  York,  made  a  statement  be- 
fore each  Conference  of  the  condition  and  claims  of  the 
university,  and  enlisted  the  co-operation  of  its  mem- 
bers in  the  great  work  to  which  he  was  pledged.  He 
usually  preached  on  the  Sabbath,  during  the  session 
of  the  Conference,  to  several  hundred  preachers  —  a 
privilege  he  highly  valued.  "  I  love,  of  all  things,"  he 
writes,  "  to  preach  Christ  to  his  own  embassadors ;"  and 
other  interests  than  those  of  the  university  may  have 
been  subserved  by  thus  bringing  into  contact  with  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  more  than  a  thousand  preachers 
his  clear,  powerful  views  of  heavenly  truth,  and  his 
lively  sense  of  the  duties  and  obligations  of  the  dis- 
ciples of  Christ. 

The  Commencement  of  the  "Wesleyan  University 
takes  place  the  first  Wednesday  in  August,  and  the 
Sunday  before  was  appropriated  to  the  delivery  of  a 
Baccalaureate  Address  by  the  president.  On  an  occa- 
sion of  so  much  importance  to  the  students,  Dr.  Olin 
thought  it  due  to  them  to  write  out  carefully  the  train 
of  thought  suggested  to  his  mind,  and,  by  reading  it 
over  several  times,  to  familiarize  himself  with  it.  This 
cost  him  much  more  labor  than  his  usual  preparations 
for  the  pulpit,  and  at  a  time  when  the  responsible  and 
fatiguing  duties  of  a  Commencement  made  it  peculiarly 
trying.  This  summer  he  wrote  his  first  Baccalaureate 
Address,  but  unexpected  hinderances  deprived  him  of 
the  leisure  needed  to  familiarize  himself  with  it,  and 
he  carried  his  manuscript  into  the  pulpit.  He  had 
never  used  notes  in  the  pulpit  before.  His  handwriting 
was  not  very  legible,  nor  his  eye  trained  to  read  it 


186  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

readily,  and  his  vigorous,  comprehensive  views  lacked 
the  impassioned  delivery  which  usually  secured  an  en- 
trance to  minds  of  various  grades  of  culture  for  his 
most  metaphysical  trains  of  thought.  "  Soon,"  said 
one  of  the  students,  "  he  laid  aside  his  papers,  took  off 
his  glasses,  and  then  for  more  than  an  hour  poured  forth 
such  a  continuous  stream  of  powerful,  brilliant,  earnest 
thought  as  I  never  expect  again  to  hear."  It  was  the 
unchaining  of  the  eagle. 

In  the  days  of  his  early  ministry  he  never  put  pen 
to  paper  in  preparing  for  the  pulpit.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  substance  of  a  sermon  delivered  in  Charles- 
ton, on  the  4th  of  July,  the  only  fragments  of  those  ser- 
mons which  still  live  in  the  hearts  of  some  of  the  hear- 
ers, are  six  brief  sketches,  merely  indicating  the  heads 
of  the  discourse.  After  the  publication  of  his  "  Travels 
in  the  East,"  he  became  accustomed  to  think  with  the 
pen  in  his  hand,  so  that  he  now  wrote  his  discourses,  in- 
stead of  preparing  them  only  mentally,  as  he  had  for- 
merly done.  It  is  to  this  circumstance  that  we  owe  the 
published  volume  of  his  sermons,  nearly  all  of  which 
were  written  during  the  last  nine  years  of  his  life.* 

*  "  Many  great  preachers,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hagany,  "  are  great 
only  in  the  pulpit.  Nothing  can  be  more  fatal  to  their  reputation 
than  the  stenographer's  pen,  for  the  simple  reason  that  no  pen  can 
write  out  the  flashing  eye,  the  glowing  cheek,  and  divinely  animated 
voice.  Franklin  wisely  regretted,  for  the  posthumous  fame  of  White- 
field,  that  he  had  no  friend  to  burn  his  manuscripts.  Dr.  Olin's  ad- 
mirers will  rejoice  that  his  have  found  their  way  to  the  press.  The 
book  will  bring  vividly  to  the  recollection  of  thousands  that  powerful 
frame,  swaying  to  and  fro  under  the  pressure  of  great  thoughts,  which 
he  poured  out  with  all  the  energy  of  a  new  revelation.  But  though 
the  impressive  manner  of  delivery  is  no  longer  seen  and  felt,  yet  here 
is  the  same  masterly  intellect,  grasping  and  fixing  mighty  truths 


EXTEMPORANEOUS     PREACHING.  187 

This  written  preparation  aided  him  in  the  introduction 
to  his  discourse,  and  furnished  him  with  the  outline ; 
but  the  inspiration  of  the  hour  gave  expansion  and  vol- 
ume to  the  subject,  and  the  effective,  thrilling  passages 
of  the  sermon  were  those  which  occurred  to  him  at  the 
moment,  and  of  which  he  subsequently  retained  no  re- 
membrance. In  a  notice  of  his  posthumous  works, 
Dr.  Wightman  finely  contrasts  the  written  sermon  with 
the  glowing  utterances  of  the  pulpit : 

"  We  look  at  this  monument  of  one  of  the  greatest  minds 
America  has  ever  produced  with  a  mournful  interest,  per- 
vaded by  a  profound  satisfaction.  These  volumes  recall  the 
image,  the  sentiments,  the  very  tones  of  a  preacher  of  colos- 
sal powers,  whose  brilliant,  original  genius,  great  as  it  was, 
by  universal  acknowledgment,  was  fully  equaled  by  the  sim- 
plicity and  thoroughness  of  his  consecration  to  Christ,  and 
the  sterling  virtues  of  his  heart.  His  face  we  shall  see  no 
more.  His  commanding  presence,  his  peculiar  elocution,  the 
spell  of  that  potent  influence  by  which  he  was  wont  to  cany 
listening  thousands  with  him — all  these  are  with  the  irrecov- 
erable past.  But  he  leaves  behind  him  some  mementoes  to 
which  friendship  will  cling,  and  from  which  the  present  gen- 
eration, and  many  to  come,  will  gather  the  lessons  of  wisdom, 
and  the  weighty  words  of  instruction. 

which  have  floated  indistinctly  before  the  eyes  of  other  men,  but 
which  they  never  could  secure  in  permanent  forms.  To  many  minds 
divine  truth,  like  its  Author,  appears  at  once,  on  a  troubled  sea,  with 
terrifying  effect,  or  in  the  quiet  evening,  as  at  Emmaus,  and  breaks 
bread  to  the  hungry  soul,  and  instantly  vanishes  away.  They  would 
recall  the  flitting  vision  that  left  them  with  trembling  or  burning 
hearts,  but  it  is  gone.  To  such  minds  the  subtle  messenger  will  re- 
appear as  in  a  magic  glass,  on  Dr.  Olin's  page.  Shadowy  thoughts 
of  the  past,  of  deepest  moral  import,  will  stand  forth  distinctly  de- 
fined, inspiring  afresh,  according  to  their  character,  consolation  or 
alarm.  He  is  a  great  preacher  who  makes  his  hearers  understand 
themselves." 


188  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

"  Those  who  were  ever  privileged  to  hear  Dr.  Olin  preach, 
particularly  at  the  opening  of  his  ministry  in  this  city,  twen- 
ty-eight years  ago,  and  who  recollect  the  majesty  and  power 
of  that  preaching — the  wonderful  interpenetration  of  intel- 
lect and  imagination,  of  strength  and  pathos,  of  masculine 
energy  and  original  freshness — will  probably  consider  these 
printed  sermons  a  very  inadequate  representation  of  the  liv- 
ing preacher.  They  may  indulge  the  fruitless  wish  that 
some  reporter  had  transferred  to  type  the  utterances  that 
came  from  his  lips,  under  the  pressure  of  strong  excitement, 
when  his  powers  were  fully  aroused  and  in  a  glow.  Every 
extemporaneous  speaker  will  realize  at  a  moment  the  vast 
difference  between  the  preparations  of  the  study  and  the  free- 
dom and  force  of  the  pulpit.  In  the  volume  before  us  we 
have  the  germs  ;  in  his  uttered  sermons  we  had  the  full  flow- 
er in  all  its  fragrance.  This  is  the  blossom  ;  that  was  the 
golden  fruitage.  We  must  expect  a  difference.  Neverthe- 
less, to  adopt  one  of  his  own  illustrations,  the  printed  ser- 
mon is  to  the  spoken  what  the  solid  mountains,  stripped  of 
foliage  and  flower  by  winter's  blasts,  are  to  the  mountains 
covered  with  verdure  and  beauty,  and  bathed  in  summer 
sunshine.  The  strong,  distinguishing  features  of  the  original 
mind,  the  massive  foundations  of  thought,  the  methodical  pro- 
gression of  ideas  grasping  the  whole  field  of  the  subject,  and 
developing  the  succession  of  relations  it  embraces,  are  there. 
The  vividness  and  luxuriance  of  imagination,  the  dew-drop 
and  the  perfume  of  the  flower,  are  gone ;  but  the  sweeping 
outline,  the  spread  of  vision,  the  urgency  of  argument  remain. 
There  they  are  in  these  volumes,  a  precious  legacy  to  the 
rising  race  of  Methodist  preachers,  who  can  not  find  a  more 
masterly  guide  for  thought,  a  more  exquisite  model  for  style 
— majestic  the  one,  simple  and  severe  the  other." 

Commencement  made  a  brief  pause  in  Dr.  Olin's 
tours  of  duty.  Soon  after,  he  went  to  one  of  the  East- 


NIAGARA REGARD    TO    THE     SABBATH.     189 


ern  Conferences,  and  thence  to  the  Oneida  Conference, 
which  met  in  the  shaded,  hill-engirdled  town  of  Ithaca. 
On  the  Sunday  morning  Bishop  Hamline's  sermon  had 
a  power  and  pathos  which  commended  it  to  all  hearts. 
In  the  afternoon  Dr.  Olin  preached.  An  interval  of  a 
fortnight  between  the  sessions  of  the  Oneida  and  the 
Grenesee  Conferences  detained  him  in  "Western  New 
York,  and  some  of  these  days  of  waiting  were  spent 
with  his  wife  at  Niagara,  enjoying  the  glorious  beauty 
of  the  scenery.  On  the  Sunday  there — a  day  so  dese- 
crated by  summer  tourists — he  attended  the  only  service 
in  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  passed  the  rest  of  the  day 
in  his  room,  or  on  the  adjoining  balcony,  which  hung 
over  the  rapids.  He  said  the  view  of  the  falls  would 
probably  suggest  devotional  thoughts  to  his  mind,  and 
lead  to  meditations  on  the  power  and  the  goodness  of 
Grod,  but  that  he  would  not  take  even  a  short  walk  to 
see  them,  and  countenance  in  the  least  degree  the  gen- 
eral disregard  of  the  Sabbath,  in  a  place  where  guides 
and  visitors  think  all  days  alike.  The  same  conscien- 
tious regard  to  the  Sabbath  ever  characterized  him  in 
foreign  lands,  where  he  was  never  tempted  to  pass  over 
the  strait  line  of  Christian  duty  recognized  at  home. 
On  his  last  visit  to  Europe,  he  was  asked  whether  it 
would  be  right  to  visit  the  Palais  Royal  on  Sunday — 
the  only  day  on  which  visitors  were  allowed  to  enter 
the  royal  apartments.  He  replied,  "  I  resided  fifteen 
months  in  Paris,  and  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  I 
could  visit  the  Palais  Royal.  I  never  once  asked  my- 
self the  question  whether  I  should  be  justified  in  break- 
ing the  law  of  Grod." 

It  was  in  answer  to  some  allusion  in  his  letters  that 


190  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

an  accomplished  and  pious  minister  said  to  him,  "  You 
speak  of  never  doing  so  and  so  on  Sunday.  I  have 
always  indulged  in  it  without  a  thought  of  its  being 
wrong,  but  as  you  have  the  nicest  moral  sense  of  any 
man  I  know,  I  take  this  as  a  warning,  and  will  look 
into  the  matter." 

"While  at  Niagara,  he  playfully  charged  his  wife  not 
to  trace  her  name  on  tree  or  tower.  He  added  that  he 
had  always  refrained  from  leaving,  even  in  remote  re- 
gions, such  visible  tokens  of  his  presence.  He  had  been 
amused,  in  following  the  footsteps  of  some  New  York 
travelers  through  Egypt  and  the  Desert,  to  find  their 
names  recorded  on  the  smooth  face  of  the  towering  cliff 
— on  the  prostrate  column  or  the  antique  statue.  He 
entered  into  the  laugh,  at  his  own  expense,  when  the 
annexed  passage  was  read  to  him.  It  was  written  by 
one  of  his  early  friends,  Dr.  Leroy  M.  Lee,  of  Richmond, 
Virginia,  who  visited  Niagara  the  next  summer. 

"  Every  visitor  seems  to  feel  it  as  a  necessity  to  leave 
his  name  upon  the  trees  of  the  island.  In  one  of  my 
rambles  along  the  shore  of  the  island  next  to  the  cat- 
aract, I  met  a  name  that  has  been  long  registered  on 
my  heart  in  characters  of  a  profound  and  enduring 
friendship.  I  was  as  pleased  as  surprised  to  find  S 
Olin  high  up  on  the  bark  of  a  thrifty  young  tree,  higher 
than  most  men  could  place  it  without  standing  on  a 
chair.  A  more  enduring  and  better  immortality  awaits 
the  original.  May  he  inherit  it  in  its  fullness  and  per- 
fection !" 

Four  days  at  Niagara  satisfied  him.  His  eye  was 
"  filled  with  seeing,"  and  though  there  were  still  some 
days  before  the  session  of  the  Conference  required  his 


INTERVIEW    WITH    BISHOP    HAMLINE.          191 


presence,  yet  he  said  he  felt  less  as  if  he  were  idling 
in  traveling  than  in  remaining  there  any  longer.  So 
he  crossed  the  lake  to  Toronto  to  show  his  wife  a  for- 
eign town,  spent  an  agreeable  evening  with  his  Wes- 
leyan  brethren  there,  returned  to  Rochester,  and  thence 
to  Vienna,  a  rural  farming  town  in  Western  New  York. 
The  Grenesee  Conference  had  its  session  here,  and  as  a 
testimonial  of  their  regard  for  Dr.  Olin,  they  contributed 
at  this  time  $150  to  make  him  a  life-director  of  the 
American  Bible  Society.  He  had  previously  been  made 
a  life-member  by  the  New  Hampshire  Conference. 

During  his  stay  at  Vienna  he  saw  Bishop  Hamline 
frequently.  One  afternoon  they  paced  to  and  fro  in 
the  small  garden  of  the  house  where  the  bishop  lodged, 
in  earnest  conversation.  Their  communings  were  not 
at  that  time  of  the  interest  of  Zion,  so  dear  to  them 
both,  and  upon  which  they  so  often  conversed,  but 
upon  the  inner  life  of  their  own  souls.  He  expressed 
his  surprise  that  the  bishop  could  bear  to  be  engaged, 
two  or  three  hours  consecutively,  in  fervent  devotion. 
Dr.  Olin  said  that  his  own  brain  would  not  allow  him 
to  indulge  in  such  prolonged  seasons  of  importunate 
prayer.  He  spoke  of  the  ardor  and  intense  feeling  he 
had  at  first  carried  into  religious  things,  and  how  he 
dedicated  the  entire  Sabbath  to  high  meditations — how 
he  longed  for  deep  religious  enjoyments,  and  how  Gfod 
had  led  him  by  a  way  that  he  knew  not,  so  that  he 
was  satisfied  to  have  his  soul  kept  waiting  on  Grod — 
to  lift  up  his  heart  to  Him,  if  it  were  but  for  a  few 
moments  at  a  time — to  love  Him  and  trust  Him,  even 
when  he  could  do  nothing  more  than  call  upon  His 
name. 


192  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


The  church  not  being  able  to  accommodate  the  con- 
gregation, which  on  Sunday  amounted  to  about  five 
thousand  people,  seats  were  arranged  in  the  grove  be- 
hind the  church,  and  there  Bishop  Hamline  preached 
in  the  morning,  and  Dr.  Olin  in  the  afternoon,  until 
the  going  down  of  the  sun.  It  was  probably  one  of  his 
most  effective  sermons.  For  two  hours  and  a  half  he 
enchained  the  great  congregation,  and  the  involuntary 
responses  which  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  two  hundred 
preachers  ranged  on  ascending  seats  on  either  side  of 
him,  as  he  touched  the  electric  chain  of  feeling  that 
thrilled  them  all,  stimulated  the  fervor  of  his  zeal.  "A 
third  time,"  wrote  the  editor  of  the  Northern  Christian 
Advocate,  "  have  we  endeavored  to  report  Dr.  Olin,  but 
one  might  as  well  attempt  to  report  the  thunders  of 
Niagara  or  the  blast  of  a  hurricane."  The  life  of  the 
ungodly  in  this  world  was  forcibly  depicted — a  party 
of  pleasure  on  a  boat  nearing  the  rapids,  so  absorbed 
and  deafened  by  the  song,  the  dance,  the  whirl  of  the 
machinery,  that  their  danger  was  unheeded.  Still  the 
boat  moved  on,  more  and  more  rapidly,  under  the  ac- 
celerated impulse  of  the  mighty  mass  of  waters.  Mean- 
time the  loud  cries  of  warning  sounded  from  those  on 
shore,  with  the  faint  hope  of  rousing  the  infatuated 
voyagers  from  their  maddening  dream :  "  Throw  them 
the  rope  !  save  them,  ere  it  be  too  late  !"  "  You,"  said 
he,  turning  to  the  preachers,  "  are  to  shout  to  them  to 
reverse  their  machinery,  to  put  forth  almost  superhu- 
man strength,  that  they  may  be  rescued  ere  they  reach 
the  verge  of  that  tremendous  precipice,  from  the  base 
of  which  the  smoke  of  their  torment  ascend  eth  forever 
and  ever."  He  did  not  mention  Niagara,  but  the  whole 


WISHES    AND     COUNSELS.  193 

scene — the  resistless  rapids — the  mighty  plunge — the 
ascending  column  of  spray,  ever  rising  up  silently  and 
solemnly — was  evidently  painted  before  the  eye  of  the 
preacher.  Again,  in  dwelling  upon  the  genial  and  pow- 
erful influence  exerted  by  a  good  man  after  he  has 
passed  away  from  mortal  ken,  the  fragrance  which  ac- 
companies the  mention  of  his  name  and  his  labors  of 
love,  he  was  reminded  of  a  day  in  the  desert,  when  all 
the  route  was  perfumed  with  sweet  odors  —  spices, 
frankincense,  and  myrrh — from  a  caravan  which  had 
preceded  them.  No  caravan  was  in  sight,  but  the  long- 
linked  sweetness  wafted  on  the  gentle  breeze  whispered 
of  the  treasures  it  had  brought  from  Araby  the  Blest, 
and  imparted  to  the  weary  pilgrims,  as  they  journeyed 
on,  a  new  sense  of  life  and  enjoyment. 

These  illustrations,  as  thus  preserved,  are  merely 
like  pressed  flowers,  only  suggesting  the  living  flowers 
with  their  fragrance  and  beauty. 

Letters  written  in  1844. 

CX.  TO  THE  STUDENTS  OF  THE  WESLEYAN  UNIVERSITY. 

New  York,  May,  1844. 

MY  DEAR  FRIENDS, — Ever  since  my  connection  with  you 
as  president  of  the  university,  it  has  been  a  source  of  lively 
regret  to  me  that  I  have  been  prevented,  partly  by  the  state 
of  my  health,  but  yet  more  by  the  demands  of  other  and  more 
urgent  duties,  from  devoting  my  time  more  fully  to  the  pro- 
motion of  your  welfare  and  improvement.  This  necessity,  I 
trust,  will  not  much  longer  exist,  at  least  to  the  same  extent, 
and  I  shall  esteem  it  a  high  privilege  to  be  released  from  all 
engagements  that  interfere  with  those  belonging  more  appro- 
priately to  my  office.  I  hope  then  to  become  personally  ac- 
quainted with  each  of  you — to  be  ready  at  all  proper  times 
IT.  I 


194  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


to  see,  counsel,  and  instruct  you  with  all  the  fidelity  and  af- 
fection which  the  deepest  interest  in  your  improvement  and 
happiness  can  dictate. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  can  not  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of 
believing  that  you  will  receive  respectfully  and  cordially  the 
expression  of  my  wishes  and  earnest  counsels  with  regard  to 
your  conduct  as  students  and  gentlemen.  With  regard  to 
most  of  you,  such  advice  may  perhaps  he  felt  to  be  unneces- 
sary ;  but  such,  I  am  confident,  will  be  the  first  to  appreciate 
the  motive  which  suggests  them. 

I  earnestly  request  each  and  all  of  you  to  enter  upon  the 
opening  term  with  strong  purposes  to  be  industrious,  regular, 
and  punctual.  Omit  no  duty — slight  no  duty  ;  neither  com- 
mit nor  countenance  any  disorder  or  impropriety  in  your  rooms 
or  elsewhere.  Strive  rather  to  lighten  than  to  increase  the 
cares  and  anxieties  of  the  Faculty.  Do  not,  I  entreat  you,  for 
a  moment,  or  under  any  circumstances,  regard  your  instruct- 
ors in  any  other  light  than  that  of  friends.  They  must  gov- 
ern. They  must  reprove,  and,  if  possible,  correct  idleness  and 
disorder.  This  duty  is  imperative  upon  them.  You  would 
not  tolerate  negligence  or  relaxation  in  this  matter.  You  are 
bound,  as  thinking,  consistent  men,  to  uphold  and  vindicate 
a  system  of  discipline  confessedly  indispensable.  Never,  un- 
der any  possible  circumstances,  be  so  false  to  your  obligations 
and  self-respect  as  to  oppose  or  contemn  a  system  without 
which  the  institution  could  not  exist  a  day.  Officers  may 
oubtless  commit  errors  in  administration,  but  they  can  have 
no  motive  to  inflict  wrong  upon  any,  and  the  instances,  I  am 
confident,  are  rare,  indeed,  in  which  they  do  not  act  under 
a  high  sense  of  duty.  For  myself,  I  declare  that  my  relations 
to  you  are  deeply  interesting  to  my  feelings,  and  that  my  re- 
gard for  your  well-being,  here  and  hereafter,  is  absorbing  as 
a  sentiment,  and  as  a  motive  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
under  which  I  am  conscious  of  acting.  I  have  often  thought 
that  if  students  were  more  fully  aware  of  the  solicitude  us- 


THE     PROVIDENCE    CONFERENCE.  195 

ually  felt  in  their  behalf  by  instructors,  their  own  generous 
feelings  would  go  far  to  restrain  them  from  such  acts  and 
omissions  as  call  for  censure.  I  need  not  assure  you  that 
the  purity  of  your  moral,  and  the  consistency  of  your  Chris- 
tian character,  are  regarded  by  me  as  of  paramount  import- 
ance and  value. 

With  many  kind  wishes,  and  many  prayers  for  God's  bless- 
ing upon  you,  I  am  very  affectionately  yours, 

S.  OLIN. 

CXI.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  BOND. 

Newport,  July  8th,  1844. 

The  Providence  Conference,  as  you  are  aware,  is  now  hold- 
ing its  annual  session  in  this  town.  I  have  never  attended  a 
Conference  where  a  better  feeling  was  manifested.  The  ut- 
most harmony  prevails.  Every  thing  is  said  and  done  in  a 
kind,  conciliating,  and  pious  spirit.  The  old  preachers  ex- 
press their  sentiments  affectionately  and  modestly,  arrogating 
nothing  to  themselves  on  the  score  of  age,  or  services,  or  po- 
sition, while  the  youngest  men  of  the  body  are  listened  to  pa- 
tiently and  respectfully.  Not  a  word  falls  from  any  one  that 
can  possibly  wound  the  most  delicate  sensibilities — no  per- 
sonalities, no  unkind  insinuations  are  heard.  A  high  tone  of 
religious  feeling  evidently  prevails  among  the  preachers  ;  and 
I  have  nowhere  had  intercourse  with  a  company  of  men  who 
seemed  to  rne  more  likely  to  be  eminently  successful  in  their 
holy  calling. 

Bishop  Heddirig  and  Bishop  Janes  preside.  The  venerable 
and  excellent  man  first  named  was  never,  I  presume,  more 
highly  appreciated  and  generally  beloved  in  New  England 
than  at  the  present  time.  Truly,  if  any  minister  of  the  Gos- 
pel may  properly  be  called  a  "  right  reverend  father  in  God," 
Bishop  Hedding  may.  May  he  long  be  spared  by  the  great 
Head  of  the  Church  to  go  out  and  in  before  his  people,  to 
adorn  the  ministry  by  the  mild  lustre  of  his  example,  and 
guide  the  flock  by  his  meek  wisdom. 


196  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


I  heard  Bishop  Janes  preach  yesterday  such  a  sermon  as 
one  would  wish  a  bishop  to  preach  —  simple,  earnest,  edify- 
ing, doctrinal,  powerful.  His  manner  of  discharging  his  offi- 
cial duties  is  such  as  to  excite  the  best  hopes.  I  doubt  not  he 
is  destined  to  be  a  blessing  to  the  Church.  We  want  able, 
humble,  holy,  laborious  men  in  that  office. 

This  morning's  session  was  devoted  to  the  interests  of 
education,  especially  to  those  of  the  Wesleyan  University. 
I  was  highly  and  unexpectedly  gratified  at  the  action  on 
that  subject.  After  listening  to  some  earnest  and  effective  re- 
marks from  several  brethren  on  the  pressing  wants  of  the  in- 
stitution, a  subscription  was  opened,  and  the  sum  of  $4700 
was  subscribed  on  the  spot.  In  addition  to  this  noble  liber- 
ality, which  raises  the  subscription  within  the  bounds  of  the 
Conference  to  about  $8000,  an  agent  was  appointed,  who  will 
find  little  difficulty  in  carrying  out  the  original  plan  of  the 
Conference  in  raising,  in  conjunction  with  the  New  England 
Conference,  the  sum  of  $20,000.  Should  the  spirit  which 
reigned  here  prevail  in  the  other  Conferences  interested  in 
the  university,  the  embarrassments  of  that  institution  will 
speedily  cease,  and  its  officers  be  allowed  to  return  to  their 
proper  sphere  of  duties  from  this  anxious  mission  in  quest  of 
pecuniary  means.  Unquestionably  there  is  an  urgent  call 
for  the  exercise  of  such  a  spirit.  The  time  has  corne  for  the 
Church  and  the  friends  of  the  university  to  take  decided 
ground  in  regard  to  this  matter.  A  little  further  postpone- 
ment of  the  indispensable  effort  will  prove,  to  say  the  least, 
very  embarrassing  to  the  trustees.  The  Church  has  ample 
means.  Our  natural  friends  and  patrons  are  spread  over  all 
New  England  and  New  York,  and  they  may  easily  supply 
all  our  pecuniary  wants  and  fill  our  halls  with  students. 


HI  SHOP     II  AM  LINE.  197 


CXII.  TO  DR.  PALMER. 

July  17th,  1844. 

I  reached  home  last  night  from  Portsmouth,  New  Hamp- 
shire, having  been  absent  two  weeks.  I  lei't  the  university 
the  4th  of  July,  the  date  of  your  letter.  This  will  account 
for  the  delay  which  has  occurred  in  answering  it. 

I  very  sincerely  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  comply  with 
your  request.  I  should  have  a  double  motive  for  doing  so — 
a  strong  wish  to  do  what  you  express  a  strong  desire  to  have 
done,  and  some  faint  hope  that  I  might  give  a  little  aid  to  a 
good  cause.  I  assure  you  I  could  hardly  hope  to  reproduce 
any  thing  which  you  would  be  likely  to  recognize  as  the  ser- 
mon preached  at  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Cox.  I  have  only  a  mea- 
gre skeleton  of  it,  of  which  I  think  I  made  little  use  on  that 
occasion.  I  might,  however,  attempt  to  recall  some  of  my 
thoughts,  or  raise  up  others  in  their  stead,  but  for  the  unto- 
wardness  of  rny  circumstances.  I  have  not  one  hour  that  I 
could  possibly  devote  to  that  object.  I  have  to  be  so  much 
away  from  the  university,  to  promote  its  outdoor  interests, 
that  I  am  nearly  useless  in  my  proper  field  of  labor.  It  is 
my  bounden  duty,  as  well  as  my  wish,  to  give  myself  up,  as 
far  as  possible,  to  the  professional  and  literary  part  of  my  du- 
ties. I  have  as  yet  done  almost  nothing  in  this  way.  I  do 
not  know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  gratify  my  inclination  in 
this  respect,  yet  I  can  but  feel  admonished  that  it  puts  in 
the  claim  of  a  paramount  duty.  You  will  not  doubt  my  in- 
clination to  comply  with  your  request ;  I  only  regret  my  in- 
ability to  do  so. 

I  saw  a  little  of  Bishop  Hamline  at  Portsmouth,  which 
only  made  me  the  more  desirous  of  seeing  more  of  him.  I 
love  his  spirit,  and  should,  I  think,  be  greatly  profited  by  com- 
muning with  it.  I  tried  in  vain  to  induce  him  to  come  to 
Middletown.  I  beg  to  be  remembered  to  him.  I  suppose 
yim  have  at  this  lime  the  pleasure  of  his  company.  The 


198  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


New  Hampshire  Conference  were  highly  delighted  with  his 
official  bearing.  I  am  sure  he  will  be  a  great  blessing  to 
the  Church,  if  his  health  will  allow  him  to  labor  extensive- 
ly. I  could  wish  that  he,  or  such  as  he,  would  preach  the 
high  doctrines  of  our  creed.  I  sometimes  regret  the  efforts 
made  by  inferior  skill  and  low  experience  to  proclaim  these 
mysteries.  Harm,  I  am  sure,  is  often  done  in  this  way,  though 
I  am  deeply  sensible  of  the  great  excellence  and  importance 
of  this  great  work.  Bishop  Janes,  you  will  be  glad  to  know, 
dwelt  upon  it  with  great  effect  and  ability  at  the  Providence 
Conference. 

I  am  very  grateful  for  the  interest  you  continue  to  take  in 
my  happiness  and  usefulness.  I  am  very  thankful  for  your 
prayers,  and  I  beg  that  I  may  have  the  benefit  of  them  in 
time  to  come.  God,  I  am  sure,  means  to  make  his  best  gifts 
an  answer  to  the  prayers  of  his  children. 

CXIII.  TO  THE  REV.  WILLIAM  M.  WIGIITMAN. 

Niagara,  September  1st,  1844. 

I  was  asked  at  dinner  to-day,  by  a  gentleman  from  Ala- 
bama, what  effect  the  contemplated  division  of  our  Church  is 
likely  to  produce  on  the  fraternal  feelings  of  the  great  body 
of  the  ministry  and  people  ?  I  was  led  to  a  review  of  some 
facts  that  have  recently  fallen  under  my  observation  in  vis- 
iting several  of  the  Northern  Conferences,  and  it  has  occur- 
red to  me  that,  so  far  as  you  may  consider  me  a  calm  ob- 
server and  a  trustworthy  witness  of  passing  events,  you  would, 
perhaps,  be  gratified  to  hear  my  testimony  in  regard  to  these 
facts.  The  position  into  which  I  have  been  thrown  in  rela- 
tion to  my  Southern  friends,  and,  still  more,  some  intimations 
of  Southern  feeling  toward  me,  would  admonish  me  not  to 
presume  on  the  respect  and  confidence  of  any  against  whom 
I  have  offended  in  the  conscientious  discharge  of  a  public 
duty  ;  yet  there  is  much  in  my  own  feelings — much  in  my 
cherished  recollection  of  former  days,  to  prevent  or  disturb 


OBJECTIONS     TO    "THE     PLAN."  199 

such  a  conclusion.  At  any  rate,  it  must  not  be  through  my 
fault — through  a  distrust  to  which  I  have  no  natural  tend- 
ency, if  the  confiding  and  affectionate  intercourse  so  long 
subsisting  between  me  and  my  old  friends  is  wholly  to  cease. 
I  have  not  heard  directly  from  one  of  them  since  the  General 
Conference.  I  must. confess  that  I  have  not  deserved  to  hear 
by  having  written  to  any  one  of  them. 

I  have  attended,  in  their  order,  the  New  York,  Providence, 
New  Hampshire,  New  England,  Maine,  and  Oneida  Confer- 
ences. You  have  heard  of  their  action  on  the  General  Con- 
ference Resolution.*  I  left  the  Maine  Conference  before  its 
vote  was  cast,  and  I  had  some  fear  that  the  resolution  would 
not  pass  that  body.  I  also  left  the  Oneida  Conference  under 
an  impression  that  a  pretty  large  minority  would  oppose  it 
there.  There  were  minorities  in  the  other  Conferences,  as  you 
have  no  doubt  observed.  This  opposition  rested  on  grounds 
exceedingly  various.  In  the  New  York  Conference  the  plan 
was  stigmatized  as  wholly  unconstitutional — as  exposing  the 
funds  of  the  Book  Concern  to  be  used  for  all  purposes  which 
the  General  Conference  might  approve  hereafter — as  offering 
a  bribe  to  secession,  &c.,  &c.  The  grounds  of  opposition  in 
the  Providence  Conference  were  set  forth  in  their  protest  ; 
and  so  strong  were  they,  in  the  estimation  of  the  preachers, 
that  I  thought  all  lost  there  at  one  time,  and  gladly  hailed 
the  protest  as  the  condition  on  which  alone  the  measure  could 
pass.  The  same  objections  were  urged  in  the  New  England 
and  Maine  Conferences,  and  with  less  pertinacity  in  the  New 
Hampshire  and  Oneida.  The  objection  which,  I  suppose, 
most  embarrassed  many  conscientious  men  was  the  provision 
excluding  the  preachers  of  either  division  from  crossing  the 
line  once  established  to  preach,  organize  churches,  &c.  This, 
it  was  held,  is  incompatible  with  the  great  commission,  "  Go 
ye  into  all  the  world,"  &c.  Both  parties,  orthodox  at  the 

*  Alluding  to  the  Plan  of  Separation  and  division  of  the  Church 
property,  a  subject  to  he  submitted  to  the  Annual  Conferences. 


200  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

outset,  might  become  corrupt,  and  they  had  no  right  to  bind 
themselves  against  doing  the  Christian  duty  of  carrying  light 
into  all  dark  places.  The  hardship  of  binding  minorities  on 
either  side  of  the  line,  and  of  making  no  provision  for  changes 
of  opinion,  not  unlikely  to  occur  hereafter  in  regard  to  this  or 
other  questions,  was  also  a  consideration  of  no  little  weight 
with  many  minds.  The  weight  of  some  of  these  objections 
was  generally  acknowledged  ;  but  it  was  held  that  they  con- 
templated only  possible  difficulties  that  might  never  occur, 
while  the  necessity  for  action  was  urgent ;  that  no  great  or- 
ganic changes  could  ever  be  made  without  theoretical  evils 
as  great,  perhaps,  as  those  now  proposed.  The  South,  which 
must  be  the  best  judge  of  its  own  necessities,  believed  divi- 
sion indispensable  and  unavoidable.  Brotherly  kindness,  good 
faith,  and  zeal  for  religion  demanded  that  we  should  put  no 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  ministry. 

In  the  debates  to  which  I  listened  there  was  no  denun- 
ciation of  the  South.  With  perhaps  a  single  exception,  ev- 
ery preacher  whose  sentiments  I  have  heard  believes  the  ac- 
tion in  the  General  Conference  in  the  bishop's  case  to  have 
been  necessary,  and  as  mild  as  was  practicable.  With  re- 
gard to  the  Church  property,  I  have  the  satisfaction  to  de- 
clare that  I  have  never  heard  of  but  one  man  who  did  not  go 
for  giving  the  South  her  full  share.  Those  who  opposed  the 
resolution  always  said,  if  division  comes,  distribution  must  fol- 
low. They  objected  to  offering  it  as  an  inducement  for  divi- 
sion. Comparatively  few  are  pleased  with  division,  though 
some  advocate  it,  mostly  as  the  means  of  avoiding  contro- 
versies and  embittered  feelings.  They  think  we  may  be  bet- 
ter friends,  in  fact,  if  left  a  little  more  to  ourselves,  and  that 
so  our  ministry  may  be  more  successful.  A  few  are  led  on 
to  the  same  ground  through  their  conscientious  scruples  in 
regard  to  slavery. 

Generally,  I  think  the  prospect  of  division  is  looked  upon 
as  a  great  calamity,  of  which  good  men  find  the  only  allcvi- 


EVILS    OF     CONTROVERSY.  201 

ations  in  committing  the  whole  question  to  God,  who  loves 
the  Church,  and  will,  for  Christ's  sake,  probably  educe  some 
unexpected  good  out  of  threatening  evil.  In  this  light  alone 
I  continue  to  see  this  most  painful  question.  All  that  I  have 
seen  or  heard  since  the  General  Conference  has  left  me  where 
I  was  then  in  regard  to  our  difficulties.  They  seemed  to 
me  insuperable  from  the  first.  You  occupied  a  position  to 
appreciate  them  very  fully,  though  I  am  aware  that  you  dif- 
fered widely  from  me  in  not  thinking  that  the  least  evil  was 
chosen — that  the  best  course,  upon  the  whole,  was  adopted. 
I  dare  not  hope  that  time  will  modify  your  opinions,  and 
those  of  the  good  men  who  thought  and  acted  with  you.  If 
it  shall  shed  healing,  soothing  influences  on  wounded  feel- 
ings— if  it  shall  calm  all  passions,  and  multiply  charity,  we 
shall  all  learn  to  be  grateful  for  its  good  offices,  and  ask  no 
more.  I  venture  to  hope  that  it  will  not  do  less  for  us. 
There  is  at  the  bottom  too  much  piety — too  much  real  unity 
among  Methodists,  to  allow  them  to  fall  into  lasting,  bitter 
enmities.  All  will  have  cause  for  regrets,  but  none  for  so 
few  as  they  who  are  willing  to  endure  much,  and  do  much 
for  peace'  sake  and  for  Christ's  sake.  You,  my  dear  broth- 
er, are  in  a  position  of  peculiar  responsibility  and  delicacy. 
That  you  will  do  what  you  deem  your  duty  with  courage  and 
ability,  I  know  full  well.  Others  will  speak  through  you, 
and  it  is  probably  unavoidable  that  they  should  say  what  you 
could  wish  were  not  said.  The  most  ardent  will  be  heard 
in  these  times — the  most  dispassionate  may,  perhaps,  be  un- 
able at  all  times  to  make  manifestation  of  the  unobtrusive 
virtues  which  belong  to  them.  Whoever,  in  this  strife  among 
brethren,  best  succeeds  in  ruling  his  own  spirit,  and  in  calm- 
ing those  of  other  men,  will  be  likely  to  win  laurels  of  the 
future,  and  I  think  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  One  thing  appears  to 
me  certain  :  the  less  strife — the  less  of  reproaches — of  wrath 
now,  the  sooner  and  the  fuller  will  be  the  return  of  peace. 
And  why  need  we  strive  ?  Both  parties  profess  to  act  under 

I  2 


202  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


a  sense  of  duty,  and  under  the  pressure  of  a  dire  necessity. 
To  both  parties,  whatever  else  is  denied  them  —  wisdom, 
moderation,  or  what  not — charity  must  in  the  end  concede 
sincerity.  This  is  a  basis  of  brotherly  love.  The  South  must 
secede.  The  North  believes  it,  and  prepares  the  way.  Your 
people  approve  your  course.  Our  people  approve  ours.  Need 
we  strive  ?  May  there  not  soon  be  an  end  to  the  controversy, 
since  we  agree  about  measures  ?  If  the  controversy  must  go 
on,  may  it  not  be  tempered  down  till  it  be  fraternal  ?  I  do 
riot  blame.  I  am  looking  for  the  best  way.  May  God  lead 
us  all  into  it,  to  the  praise  of  His  name. 

I  send   my  love  to  Dr.  Capers,  and  to  all  my  friends.     I 
am,  as  ever,  most  affectionately  your  friend  and  brother, 

S.  OLIN. 

CXIV.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

Middletown,  Oct.  28th,  1844. 

.  .  .  And  now,  pray,  what  are  you  doing,  and  what 
have  you  been  doing  for  the  last  four  months  ?  Of  your  daily 
professional  routine  I  can  be  at  no  loss  to  form  a  tolerable 
conjecture.  But  you  never  confine  yourself  to  this,  I  believe, 
but  have  something  on  the  tapis  of  moment  to  the  public, 
upon  which  you  employ  your  fragments  of  time.  This  is  a 
high  privilege,  which  I  know  well  how  to  estimate  by  the 
want  of  it.  I  do  not  study  at  all.  The  bad  condition  of  our 
finances  leads  me  perpetually  from  home.  I  am  here  so  little 
that  I  can  not  engage  in  the  regular  course  of  instruction, 
while  a  burden  of  petty,  annoying  details,  accumulated  in  my 
absence,  makes  my  visits  to  the  college  almost  irksome.  It 
is  a  painful  reflection  that  I  know  less  and  less  of  books  as  I 
grow  older,  and  that  I  am  able  to  see  nothing  better  in  the 
future.  This  pecuniary  difficulty  may,  I  trust,  be  disposed 
of  in  a  year  or  two  more.  Possibly  I  may  then  return  to  my 
books,  but  I  fear  both  my  habits  and  my  health  may  be  un- 
favorable to  much  success.  My  nervous  system  is  not  likely 


DEMANDS     OF     FRIENDSHIP.  203 

to  be  wholly  restored.  >  My  brain  very  soon  complains  under 
hard  work.  So  I  am  likely  to  go  on,  if  I  go  on  at  all.  After 
all,  this  is  an  ill,  ungrateful  strain.  I  was  no  better  than  a 
dead  man  for  five  years,  and  was  utterly  without  hope  of  do- 
ing any  thing.  This  partial  restoration  is  little  less  than  a 
resurrection.  This  has  been,  upon  the  whole,  the  best  sum- 
mer I  have  had  in  twenty  years.  I  enjoy  life.  I  have  a 
happy  home.  I  fill  a  gap  which  it  would,  perhaps,  just  now 
be  hard  to  fill  with  any  body  else.  Somebody  must  serve 
tables.  "Why  not  I?  I  will  do  it  gladly,  if  God  so  ordain. 
You  and  other  more  favored  ones  may  win  honors,  and  do 
good  service  to  the  Church  in  a  higher  sphere.  You  can  not 
be  happier  than  I  am  in  occasionally  preaching  Christ. 
You  can  not  be  less  worthy  of  that  and  all  other  privi- 
leges  

CXV.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LAXDON. 

"Middletown,  Nov.  12th,  1844. 

Do  you  recollect  exactly  or  nearly  how  long  it  is  since  you 
wrote  to  me  or  I  to  you  ?  Do  you  remember  whether  you 
or  I  wrote  last  ?  I  do  not.  Perhaps  you  did,  but  I  think  not. 
This  is,  however,  of  little  comparative  importance,  though  I 
profess  to  feel  a  very  lively  interest  in  maintaining  a  place  in 
your  memory,  and,  if  it  may  be,  in  your  friendship.  I  doubt 
if  it  be  ever  good  policy  to  permit  the  rust  of  time  to  gather 
upon  such  ties  as  I  think  have  united  you  and  me.  A  little 
neglect  or  forgetfulness  may  do  the  sad  office  of  beginning  a 
— what  shall  I  call  it  ?  not  alienation,  which  is  hardly  pos- 
sible— not  coldness,  which  is  rather  too  positive  for  the  occa- 
sion— a  less  lively  sympathy — a  less  ardent  attachment — a 
less  confiding  intimacy — evils  not  to  be  lightly  incurred,  at 
our  time  of  life,  by  men  who  have  in  their  temperament  so 
strong  demands  for  the  confidence  of  affection  and  friendship. 
1  have  experienced  a  loss  in  this  respect  which  must,  no 
doubt,  prove  irreparable,  in  the  alienation  of  my  Southern 


204  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

friends.  They  were  my  first  religious  associates  and  friends ; 
they  were  strongly  attached  to  me  ;  they  no  doubt  overval- 
ued me.  Events  have  since  demonstrated  what  I  could  but 
foresee.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that,  from  being  undeserv- 
edly trusted  and  beloved,  I  have  become  specially  obnoxious, 
not  to  the  leading  men  only,  but  to  the  Southern  Church. 
With  one  exception,  no  man  has  been  so  often  alluded  to  in 
terms  of  reproach  as  I  have  in  their  papers.*  To  this  my 
former  connection  with  slavery  renders  me  specially  liable. 
I  have  been  led  carefully  to  review  that  connection,  and  I  am 
not  able  to  feel  that  I  did  wrong.  I  no  doubt  often  erred  in 
my  management  of  my  servants,  yet  even  in  this  I  was  con- 
scientious. The  relation  itself  I  entered  upon  at  first  igno- 
rantly.  I  did  not  know,  when  I  married,  that  rny  wife  was 
owner  of  slaves.  I  bought,  in  two  or  three  instances,  with 
no  view  to  speculate  in  that  way.  1  sold,  when  I  must,  with 
single  reference  to  the  well-being  of  the  weaker  party,  and 
at  a  loss.  All  this  I  have  prayerfully  reviewed  many,  many 
times,  and  with  emotions  not  to  be  described,  yet  I  have  not 
been  able  to  feel  that  I  sinned  in  being  the  owner  of  slaves. 
Yet  I  the  more  humbly  and  patiently  endure  reproach  from 
a  feeling  that  I  may  have  misjudged  in  this  business.  I 
should  not  again  hold  such  a  relation,  rather  from  the  expe- 
rienced inconveniences  of  it,  and  from  the  liability  that  is  in- 
curred to  impair  a  minister's  usefulness  in  possible  contin- 
gencies, than  from  any  new  convictions  on  the  subject.  If 
my  views  be  wrong  —  if  the  full  charity  I  extend  to  the 
South  be  an  error  or  a  sin  in  me,  I  pray  God  to  forgive  me, 
and  set  me  right.  "With  the  consciousness  of  rectitude,  I  can 
not  feel  deeply  the  shafts  that  are  hurled  at  me.  I  only  re- 
gret the  loss  of  invaluable  friendships.  This,  too,  was  in  my 
view  when  I  did  my  duty  in  the  General  Conference,  and  I 
may  not  refuse  to  endure  it.  If  the  whole  were  to  be  acted 

*  In  the  heat  and  excitement  of  controversy,  probably  many  tilings 
were  said  on  all  sides  which  calmer  moods  would  have  disowned. 


DIVISION     OF     THE     CHURCH.  205 

over  again,  I  am  unable  to  see  how  I  could  do  otherwise.  I 
think  our  action  in  the  bishop's  case  right  and  legal — the 
proper  measure  on  right  grounds.  I  also  think  the  plan  for 
division  wise  and  necessary,  and  I  lament  over  the  efforts 
made  to  thwart  it  as  destined  to  do  incalculable  harm. 
It  would  give  us  two  Churches,  but  homogeneous.  They 
might  live  in  harmony  with  each  other,  and  probably  ivould 
among  themselves.  I  can  not  help  looking  upon  our  Church 
affairs  with  despondency,  though  little  prone  to  it.  Besides 
the  great  difficulty,  that,  perhaps,  has  produced  a  general  leth- 
argy. The  Church  is  not  anxious  and  penitent,  but  worldly, 
and  cold,  and  careless.  The  missionary  spirit  is  all  but  ex- 
tinct. We  do  not  even  hear  of  revivals.  Our  periodical 
press  is  given  up,  soul  and  body,  to  bitter  controversies.  Why 
does  not  somebody  see  the  danger  and  raise  the  alarm  ?  We 
shall  rue  these  days.  We  must  repent  in  the  dust.  God 
will  reckon  with  the  Church.  O  that  we  may  be  wise  in 
time  !  I  beg  of  you  to  consider  these  views,  and  tell  me  if 
they  are  chimerical — it  will  relieve  me  to  know  it — that  my 
fears  arc  groundless.  What  a  letter  !  I  had  other  matters 
to  write,  but  not  these 


206  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

VISITS  WASHINGTON  AND  BOSTON— FUNERAL  SERMON— A  MISSION- 
ARY'S MARRIAGE. 

DR.  OLIN  passed  part  of  the  winter  vacation  in  New 
York,  at  the  house  of  his  wife's  father,  and  the  remain- 
der of  the  time  in  Washington,  under  the  hospitable 
roof  of  his  valued  friend  and  physician,  the  late  Dr. 
Sewell.  While  there,  he  preached  in  the  Hall  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  The  Hon.  Rufus  Choate 
observed  to  a  friend,  on  leaving  the  Capitol,  that  Dr. 
Olin's  preaching  was  characterized  by  the  same  rare 
combination  of  forcible  thought  and  deep  feeling  that 
gave  the  preaching  of  Chalmers  its  great  po\ver.  In 
the  sermon  to  which  he  had  just  listened,  he  said  the 
mind  was  led  on  with  logical  accuracy,  through  a  reg- 
ular gradation  of  thought,  to  the  desired  climax,  while 
the  hearer  was  borne  onward,  at  the  same  time,  by  an 
impetuous  tide  of  emotion.  He  passed  a  day  or  two  in 
Baltimore,  and  preached  one  evening  in  the  beautiful 
Methodist  Church  in  Charles  Street.  His  subject  was 
the  mediation  of  Christ — a  theme  oh  which  he  dwelt 
with  peculiar  delight,  and  which  he  had  found  to  be 
greatly  blessed  to  his  hearers.  "  Soon  after  his  return 
to  his  official  duties  at  Middletown,  on  the  9th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1845,''  writes  a  friend,  "he  preached  a  sermon  on 
'  Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world.'  which,  I  believe,  form- 
ed an  era  in  Mrs.  's  religious  life,  and  which 

should  have  produced  similar  effects  upon  us  all." 


RELIGIOUS     COMMUNINGS.  207 


In  March  he  went  again  to  Boston,  to  make  some 
efforts  in  Lehalf  of  the  university,  hut,  as  usual,  when 
there,  he  was  prostrated  hy  the  effects  of  the  climate, 
and  for  weeks  he  was  confined  to  the  house.  It 
was  well  that  he  \vas  surrounded  by  cheerful,  affec- 
tionate faces,  in  the  family  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Sleeper, 
during  this  period  of  protracted  indisposition.  One  of 
his  brethren,*  who  visited  him  frequently,  has  treas- 
ured up  some  remembrances  of  this  period,  of  no  com- 
mon interest. 

"  He  was  not  prone  to  say  much  respecting  his  religious 
experience  or  himself  publicly  ;  but  in  social,  and  especially 
in  private  conversation,  he  delighted  to  testify  of  the  grace  of 
God  as  revealed  in  his  own  history.  During  a  period  of  ill- 
ness, while  he  was  in  Boston — where  he  almost  always  suf- 
fered under  the  climate — he  took  a  ride  for  exercise  in  a  car- 
riage through  the  beautiful  adjacent  villages.  I  was  his  only 
companion  in  the  excursion,  and  the  conversation  became  of 
the  most  personal  and  familiar  character,  especially  in  refer- 
ence to  subjects  of  religious  experience.  I  never  before  saw 
him  when  his  spirit  was  more  mellow,  more  heavenly.  The 
simplicity  of  the  child,  the  meekness  of  the  sage,  seemed 
blended  in  his  person.  The  conversation  flowed  along  from 
topic  to  topic,  with  surpassing  interest  to  myself.  There  was 
no  reserve  in  speaking  of  the  gracious  experiences  which  the 
Lord  had  deigned  to  him.  He  ventured  to  indulge  even  the 
highest  confidences.  God  had  sanctified  him,  soul,  body, 
and  spirit,  as  he  believed. 

"  The  subject  was  one  of  no  little  interest  to  me.  I  allud- 
ed to  the  diversity  and  exceeding  crudeness  of  recent  opinions 
among  us  respecting  it.  '  I  had,'  he  remarked,  in  substance, 
'  difficulties  regarding  our  theoretic  views  of  the  doctrine.  I 
even  joined  the  Conference  with  exceptions  to  it,  and  staled 
*  The  Rev.  Abel  Stevens. 


208  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


my  objections  when  a  candidate  before  the  whole  body.  But 
I  was  admitted,  the  Conference  expressing  the  hope  that 
further  inquiries  would  rectify  my  views.  Years,  however, 
passed  without  any  modification  of  my  opinions.  But  it 
pleased  God  to  lead  me  into  the  truth.  My  health  failed, 
my  official  employments  had  to  be  abandoned  ;  I  lost  my  chil- 
dren, my  wife  died,  and  I  was  wandering  over  the  world 
alone,  with  scarcely  any  thing  remaining  but  God.  I  lost 
my  hold  on  all  things  else,  and  became,  as  it  were,  lost  my- 
self in  God.  My  affections  centered  in  Him.  My  will  be- 
came absorbed  in  His.  I  sunk,  as  it  were,  into  the  blessing 
of  His  perfect  love,  and  found  in  my  own  consciousness  the 
reality  of  the  doctrine  which  I  had  theoretically  doubted.' 

"  Some  years  have  elapsed  since  this  conversation.  I  can 
not  pretend  to  give  it  verbally,  but  this  was  its  substance. 
He  lived  through  the  remainder  of  his  career  in  the  spirit  and 
power  of  the  great  doctrine  of  holiness.  His  views  of  it  were 
remarkable  for  their  simplicity.  The  usual  technical  subtil- 
ties  and  metaphysical  embarrassments  of  theorists  hardly  re- 
ceived his  consideration.  He  saw  the  simple,  perfect  stand- 
ard of  evangelic  holiness  ;  he  perceived  that  neither  himself 
nor  the  Christian  world  generally  lived  up  to  it ;  he  gave 
himself  entirely  to  it  by  laying  his  whole  being  on  the  altar 
of  consecration,  where  he  daily  kept  it  by  faith  and  watch- 
fulness." 

He  wrote,  this  spring,  a  series  of  articles  on  the  sub- 
ject of  collegiate  education.  As  they  exhibit  the  com- 
prehensive views  and  deep  convictions  upon  which  his 
course  of  action  was  based,  some  extracts  from  them 
are  introduced,  according  to  their  dates,  in  the  corre- 
spondence of  this  year.  He  took  no  part  in  the  contro- 
versy between  the  North  and  the  South,  which  agitated 
the  Church  at  this  time,  but  on  the  8th  of  July  he  gave 
utterance  to  his  opinions  on  the  subject,  in  a  letter  ad- 


BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS  FOR  1845.  209 


dressed  to  the  editor  of  the  Christian  Advocate  and 
Journal,  and  designed  to  promote,  as  far  as  in  him  lay, 
"the  holy  ends  of  peace  and  quietness."  Four  days 
after,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  he  says  :  "  Is  it  not  a  mis- 
fortune to  be  rich  ?  Yet  who  feels  that  it  would  be  so 
in  his  case  ?  If,  however,  we  are  called  to  some  im- 
portant agency  in  promoting  Christ's  kingdom  on  the 
earth,  ought  we  not  to  regard  the  loss  of  a  single  year 
as  an  evil  which  no  amount  of  worldly  prospects  can 
atone  for  ?  How  will  these  things  appear  in  the  day 
of  judgment  ?  Oh  !  how  will  any  of  our  services  ap- 
pear then  ?  God  grant  that  we  may  have  that  bet- 
ter security,  found  in  the  merits  of  our  crucified  Re- 
deemer !" 

At  Commencement  he  gave  to  the  graduating  class  a 
baccalaureate  address,  on  "  The  Resources  and  Duties 
of  Christian  Young  Men."  It  was  published  at  the 
request  of  the  class,  and  elicited  the  following  genial 
notice  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  "Wightman,  of  Charleston, 
S.  C. :  "  This  discourse  reminds  us  more  of  the  brother 
Olin  of  1824,  when,  in  our  boyish  days,  we  sat  under 
his  ministry  in  this  city,  from  January  to  July,  than 
any  late  production  of  his  pen.  Here  is  all  the  strength 
of  reasoning,  the  clear  insight  into  the  labyrinths  of 
the  human  heart,  the  fine  discrimination  of  character 
and  exuberance  of  winged  imagination,  the  profound 
loyalty  to  the  stern  peculiarities  of  Christianity,  the 
unction  and  power  which  made  him,  at  that  time,  one 
of  the  greatest  of  preachers." 

On  the  7th  of  September  he  preached  a  sermon  in 
the  college  chapel  to  a  deeply  interested  audiertce,  on 
the  fifth  verse  of  the  39th  Psalm :  "  Thou  hast  made 


210  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


my  days  as  an  hand-breadth."  The  occasion  was  a  sol- 
emn one.  Two  students — Christian  young  men,  of 
fine  talents  and  high  character — had  been  called  away 
from  the  studies  intended  to  prepare  them  for  their 
life-work,  to  the  higher  culture  adapted  to  the  dwell- 
ers in  heavenly  places.  One  had  met  the  sure  messen- 
ger at  his  own  home  in  Lowell,  whither  he  had  been 
summoned  from  college  by  the  illness  and  death  of  sev- 
eral members  of  his  family,  the  victims  of  a  prevailing 
epidemic.  The  death  of  the  other — young  Grould — 
was  the  first  that  had  occurred  among  the  students  at 
Middletown,  during  Dr.  Olin's  administration,  and  pow- 
erfully did  he  bring  to  bear  upon  the  young  men  be- 
fore him  the  deeply,  solemn  contemplations  connected 
with  death  and  eternity.  One  student — among  those 
who  listened  until  shadowy  and  unsubstantial  thoughts 
became  fearful  and  glorious  realities,  pressing  upon  the 
mind  and  heart  with  unwonted  power — determined,  in 
that  hour  of  clear  vision,  to  consecrate  himself  to  the 
service  of  that  Redeemer  who  has  poured  light  even 
upon  the  darkness  of  the  tomb. 

Late  in  October,  Dr.  Olin  was  called  upon  to  do  a 
service  of  a  different  character  for  one  of  the  graduates 
at  the  preceding  Commencement.  The  Missionary 
Board  wished  to  appoint  a  young  man  of  liberal  edu- 
cation as  principal  of  the  seminary  at  Monrovia,  and 
Mr.  Williams,  who  had  placed  himself  at  the  disposal 
of  the  Board,  received  the  appointment.  As  the  vessel 
was  soon  to  sail,  but  a  limited  time  was  allowed  him  to 
bid  farewell  to  his  friends  and  to  prepare  for  his  voyage. 
Besides  the  ordinary  preparations,  he  was  to  "marry  a 
wife."  The  lady  was  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  mem- 


MARRIAGE     OK     A     MISSIONARY. 


bers  of  the  Methodist  Church  in  Middletown,  and  Mr. 
Williams  could  only  spend  the  Sabbath  in  that  place. 
As  he  was  very  desirous  to  be  married  by  Dr.  Olin,  who 
was  too  ill  to  leave  the  house,  it  was  arranged  that  the 
ceremony  should  take  place  at  the  president's  house 
that  evening.  The  parents  and  sisters  of  the  bride, 
and  the  professors  and  their  wives,  were  invited  to  be 
present.  The  autumn  flowers  were  all  gone,  and,  with 
no  green-house  at  hand,  all  that  could  be  found  to  gar- 
nish the  parlors  for  the  hasty  bridal  were  the  orange 
berries  of  the  bitter  sweet,  and  the  snow  berry,  mingled 
with  green  leaves.  With  some  effort  Dr.  Olin  came 
down  stairs  and  performed  the  ceremony,  which  made 
the  twain  one  for  a  brief  period.  The  usual  words  of 
congratulation  seemed  out  of  place.  Thoughts  of  the 
perils  of  the  sea  and  of  an  unfriendly  climate  loomed 
up  in  the  distance  and  checked  the  flow  of  hopeful  an- 
ticipations. After  a  while.  Dr.  Olin,  seated  in  his  arm- 
chair, gave  utterance  to  some  of  the  feelings  of  the 
hour.  It  was  to  him  an  occasion  of  deep  interest  —  the 
sending  forth  from  the  university,  for  the  first  time  dur- 
ing his  administration,  of  a  foreign  missionary.  He 
said  that  he  was  very  choice  of  his  young  men  —  that 
he  highly  valued  an  educated  Christian  young  man, 
with  a  mind  disciplined  by  study,  and  trained  to  holy 
activity  in  his  Master's  cause.  He  was  anxious  that 
such  an  instrument  should  be  used  to  the  greatest  pos- 
sible advantage,  and  he  had  some  misgivings  that  the 
young  brother  going  from  among  them  might  find  the 
African  climate  not  adapted  to  his  peculiar  constitution. 
Then  came  earnest  words  on  the  duty  and  blessedness 
of  entire  consecration  to  the  Redeemer's  service,  and 


212  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


fervent  wishes  and  prayers  for  his  well-being  and  his 
prosperity  in  the  work  to  which  ho  had  set  his  hand. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Holdich,  in  his  prayer,  gave  expression  to 
the  deep  desires  of  that  little  company,  who,  after  sing- 
ing Heber's  noble  missionary  hymn,  parted,  never  all 
to  meet  again  on  earth.  The  recollections  of  that  even- 
ing assumed  a  mournful  interest,  when  in  a  few  months 
the  tidings  came  that  the  young  missionary  had  fallen 
a  victim  to  the  African  fever,  by  which  he  was  attacked 
shortly  after  his  arrival.* 

On  the  first  of  November  Dr.  Olin  sailed  for  Savan- 
nah, his  health  requiring  the  relaxation  of  a  sea-voyage, 
which  was  always  of  service  to  him.  His  journal  let- 
ters, which  will  be  found  in  the  correspondence  of  this 
year,  give  a  graphic  picture  of  the  discomforts  as  well 
as  the  compensations  of  life  at  sea.  He  returned  early 
in  December,  and,  after  spending  some  weeks  in  New 
York,  where  he  preached  a  number  of  times,  he  went 
to  Boston  for  the  remainder  of  the  vacation,  with  the 
hope  of  carrying  out  some  plans  which  the  failure  of 
his  health  had  repeatedly  interrupted. 

Letters  written  from,  January,  1845,  to  May,  1846. 

CXVI.  TO  JOHN  M.  FLOURNOY,  ESQ. 

Middletown,  January  30th,  1845. 

VERY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  letter  of  the  8th  instant  reached 
me  last  evening.  I  should  perhaps  say,  more  properly,  I 
reached  it,  as  I  returned  home  last  evening  after  an  absence 
of  some  weeks.  This  is  the  termination  of  our  long  vacation, 
and  we  recommence  operations  to-day. 

*  This  vacant  place  is  now  filled  by  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Home,  a  student 
who  graduated  a  year  after  Dr.  Olin's  death,  and  who  the  son  of  a 
Wesleyan  missionary,  horn  and  brought  up  in  the  West  Indies,  has 
fair  prospects  of  being  able  to  live  and  work  in  a  tropical  climate. 


CHURCH    DIFFICULTIES.  213 


Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  returning  "  home,"  and 
yet  more,  on  becoming  a  father.  These  words  imply  great 
responsibilities  and  weighty  cares,  but  yet  more  emphatically 
the  best  sources  of  earthly  pleasures.  I  can  not  doubt  that 
you  possess  all  the  requisites,  both  in  yourself  and  in  her  who 
is  the  sharer  of  your  lot,  for  making  domestic  and  conjugal 
life  happy  and  useful ;  and  with  these  requisites  it  is,  and  is 
designed  to  be,  the  most  favorable  condition  for  doing  good, 
and  for  working  out  our  salvation.  May  God  add  to  your 
happy  house,  and  to  your  young  family,  all  the  rich  blessings 
and  bright  ornaments  of  his  providence  and  grace.  May 
yours  be  a  house  of  peace  and  of  prayer,  which  Christ  shall 
delight  to  honor  by  his  presence,  and  in  which  he  shall  be 
honored  by  all  the  Christian  virtues  and  observances  which 
shall  constitute  yours  a  "  household  of  faith."  I  will  riot 
apologize  for  indulging  in  a  strain  to  which  I  feel  myself  im- 
pelled in  writing  to  my  friend,  and  the  son  of  my  friend,  on 
so  interesting  a  change  in  his  relations  to  society  and  to  the 
future.  How  much  I  should  rejoice  to  know  that  you  had 
consecrated  these  fresh  blessings,  with  the  many  you  en- 
joyed before,  to  the  great  Giver,  in  the  spirit  of  faith  and 
love. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  express  a  small  measure 
of  the  anguish  I  have  experienced  from  our  Church  difficul- 
ties. I  did  all  I  could  to  prevent  them — all  I  could  to  di- 
minish them — all  I  could  to  render  them  the  less  intolerable 
by  providing  for  them  when  inevitable.  Especially,  I  have 
constantly  endeavored  to  carry  out  the  plan  of  the  General 
Conference  for  a  peaceful  division,  which  I  have  all  along 
regarded  as  inevitable.  I  have  regretted  all  attempts  to  pre- 
vent this,  as  calculated  to  aggravate  the  evils  that  beset  us. 
I  will  yet  hope  that,  after  some  time  shall  have  elapsed,  bet- 
ter feeling  will  return  to  all  parties,  and  we  may  pass  this 
great  crisis  with  less  injury  than  now  seems  to  be  inevitable. 
I  must  confess  that  my  regrets  are  much  aggravated  by  per- 


214  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

sonal  considerations.  My  most  cherished  attachments  are  in 
the  South.  I  have  lost  nearly  all  my  friends  there  by  the 
part  which  I  felt  bound  in  duty  to  act  in  this  business,  and 
which  I  could  but  act  again  in  a  similar  case.  I  have  no 
complaints  to  make  of  any,  though  many  have  not  been  sat- 
isfied with  allowing  me  the  benefit  of  my  own  motives  and 
my  own  explanations.  I  have  been  perpetually  represented 
in  the  papers  as  calling  in  question  the  rights  of  Southern 
Methodists  to  the  privileges  of  the  ministry  and  the  Church, 
though  I  fully  acknowledge  them  in  word  and  deed.  I  also 
advocated  them  as  well  as  I  could.  Yet  it  is  certainly  true 
that  a  state  of  things  had  come  upon  us  in  which  I  believed 
it  impossible  to  avoid  the  adoption  of  measures  which  might 
divide  us.  So  it  turns  out — and  I  would  gladly  do  or  avoid 
any  and  every  thing  to  promote,  as  much  as  possible,  our  fu- 
ture harmony.  I  know  no  difference  in  the  two  parties  into 
which  we  are  divided.  With  affectionate  salutations  to  Mrs. 
Flournoy,  I  am,  as  ever,  yours  with  sincere  regard, 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 

CXVII.  TO  MRS.  . 

I  am  quite  unable  to  read  or  to  hear,  but  I  have  ventured 
to  listen  to  your  "Annie  Walton,"  as  I  did  the  other  day  to 
"Little  Ella."  Thinking  it  possible  that  my  approbation 
may  give  you  a  little  encouragement,  I  feel  constrained  to 
say  to  you  that  I  can  but  detect  in  these  little  books  a  voca- 
tion for  you.  I  think  them  excellent.  Annie  Walton  will 
probably  lead  some  to  righteousness.  Write  on,  seeking  for 
yourself  a  deeper  baptism  into  Christ's  Spirit.  You  may  be 
a  blessing  to  many,  and  may  God  make  the  good  work  a  bless- 
ing to  you.  Excuse  this  intrusion  of  unasked  advice  from  a 
very  sincere  friend.* 

Saturday  morning,  January  24th,  184G. 

*  This  note,  which  belongs  to  the  correspondence  of  the  next  year, 
has  been  misplaced.  It  was  written  in  pencil  from  a  momentary  im- 
pulso,  \vliilo  thp  writnr  was  takinjr  a  foot-bath. 


REDEEMING     THE     TIME.  215 


CXVIII.  TO  MISS  CLARINDA  OLIN. 

Middletown,  Feb.  9th,  1845. 

I  hope  that  none  of  my  friends  will  infer,  from 
any  seeming  indisposition  on  my  part  to  devote  as  much  time 
as  I  formerly  did  to  correspondence,  visits,  &c.,  that  I  feel 
less  interest  in  their  welfare  than  I  have  manifested.  I  arn 
more  busy  than  ever.  I  have  more  health  than  I  have  en- 
joyed for,  perhaps,  twenty  years,  and  with  it  more  duties — 
more  official  and  ministerial  duties.  Formerly  I  could  do 
little  besides  visit  and  journey.  Now  I  have  no  time  for 
either,  when  I  have  no  object  beyond  my  personal  gratifica- 
tion, and  I  feel  bound  to  attend  to  my  duties  and  sacrifice 
merely  social  satisfactions.  I  have  done  very  little  in  my  life 
that  ought  to  satisfy  a  Christian  man,  though  I  have  made 
many  long  journeys  to  visit  my  friends.  My  days  are  far 
spent.  I  have  just  now  a  little  unexpected  strength  for  la- 
borious duties,  and  I  shall  probably  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to 
give  it  a  direction  not  always  the  most  gratifying  to  my  pri- 
vate inclination.  I  have  not  been  to  Vermont  since  I  left 
West  Poultney,  in  July,  '42,  and  though  I  much  desire  to  see 
our  friends  there,  I  am  unable  to  foresee  when  that  pleasure 
may  be  secured.  I  have  to  attend  several  Conferences  in  be- 
half of  the  university — all  my  vacations  are  and  must  be  de- 
voted to  the  same  interest.  I  am  liable  to  be  called  to  Maine 
or  Niagara,  to  Boston  or  New  York  at  any  time,  and,  unless 
some  of  these  business  tours  lead  me  to  Vermont,  I  know 
not  when  I  may  again  see  my  native  state.  Be  this  as  God 
will,  I  must  spend  these  few  days  of  comparative  health 
which  He  allows  me  in  doing  his  will.  You  will  be  glad  to 
know  that  I  have  a  very  pleasant  home,  though  I  am  much 
away  from  it There  is  a  very  intelligent  com- 
munity with  whom  our  relations  are  exceedingly  agreeable, 
except  that  these  social  demands  are  a  little  too  numerous  and 
etrorig  for  a  man  who  ought  to  give  his  very  scanty  leisure 


216  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

to  literary  pursuits.  With  these,  however,  I  may  probably 
have  little  to  do,  and  I  am  trying  to  be  content,  as,  indeed,  I 
ought  to  be,  with  this  unlooked-for  ability  to  engage  in  active 

duties Cultivate  a  cheerful,  contented  spirit, 

and  a  calm,  confiding  piety.  These  are  the  best  securities  for 
happiness  here  and  hereafter.  I  am  glad  your  religious  priv- 
ileges are  so  satisfactory.  This,  after  convenient  food  and 
raiment,  is,  after  all,  the  main  thing.  We  are  then  in  the  way 
of  living  usefully  and  dying  happily,  which  constitute  the 
principal  objects  of  our  being.  May  God  protect  you  and 
guide  you.  We,  perhaps,  shall  hardly  meet  again  in  this 
world,  though  that  may  not  be  wholly  improbable,  but  I  trust 
we  are  in  a  way  to  meet  in  heaven. 

CXIX.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

Middletown,  Feb.  3d,  1845. 

There  is  just  now  an  imperative  want  of  mod- 
eration and  of  a  spirit  of  concession.  God  only  knows  if 
these  virtues  have  any  longer  a  place  among  us  to  such  an 
extent  as  the  crisis  calls  for.  I  do  not  forget,  my  dear  friend, 
your  remarks  upon  the  sort  of  prudence  which  I  feel  it  to  be 
my  duty  to  inculcate.  I  do  not  see  with  you — I  can  not, 
that  the  General  Conference  lacked  courage  or  wisdom  in  its 
measures.  It  pursued  the  moderate,  and,  as  I  think,  the  prop- 
er course.  It  did  what  was  necessary,  and  no  more.  More 
would  not  in  any  conceivable  way  have  diminished  the  evils 
that  beset  us — would  not  have  postponed  them — would  not 
have  been  a  clearer  declaration  of  principle.  There  was  no 
dodging,  no  temporizing,  and  there  was  courageous  modera- 
tion. So,  at  least,  I  continue  to  think,  though  in  thinking  so 
I  differ  from  a  friend  for  whose  opinions  I  have  the  highest 
respect.  I  am  sorry,  at  the  end  of  more  than  half  a  year,  to 
be  compelled  to  admit  that  the  promise  of  moderation,  held 
out  by  the  discussions  of  the  General  Conference,  has  griev- 
ously failed  in  the  subsequent  discussions Party 

spirit  and  controversy  make  wise  and  good  men  mad. 


NEED     OF     LIBERALITY.  217 


CXX.  OUR  COLLEGES. 

Upon  most  of  our  colleges — certainly  upon  that  in  which 
the  Church  has  assigned  me  my  sphere  of  labor — a  great  and 
trying  crisis  has  come,  and  an  honest  and  earnest  appeal  is 
now  made  to  the  Church  in  its  behalf.  It  is  not  a  question 
about  adding  books  to  our  library,  or  curious  specimens  to  our 
cabinet,  which  is  now  proposed  to  the  friends  of  the  Wesley- 
an  University,  but  one  far  more  weighty  and  fundamental. 
I  may  say  without  egotism,  for  I  am  but  a  new- 
comer here,  this  institution  has  richly  earned  the  confidence 
of  the  community.  No  college  in  this  country  has  given  to 
it  a  larger  proportion  of  enterprising,  intelligent,  godly  young 
men,  ready  to  go  any  where  in  obedience  to  the  call  of  duty, 
and  to  do  any  thing  by  which  God  may  be  honored  and  the 
welfare  of  men  promoted.  I  do  not  fear  contradiction  when 
I  say  the  graduates  of  the  "Wesley  an  University  are,  as  a  class, 
such  men  as  the  Methodist  Church  most  wants  as  instru- 
ments in  the  various  departments  of  her  work  for  fulfilling  her 
great  commission.  They  are  to  be  found  in  nearly  every 
Conference  and  every  state  in  the  Union,  diffusing  the  bless- 
ings of  religion  and  education,  and  so  performing  the  highest 
duties  which  the  Church  owes  to  itself  and  to  the  communi- 
ty. Is  the  Church  prepared  to  dry  up  the  fountain  to  which 
it  is  indebted  for  so  many  streams  of  cheering,  sanctified  in- 
fluence ?  Will  it  pronounce  evil  the  tree  which  has  yielded 
so  early  and  so  rich  a  harvest  of  precious  fruit  ?  To  ask  these 
questions  is,  I  am  aware,  to  answer  them  ;  but  all  will  go  for 
nothing  if  we  may  not  have  more  substantial  responses  than 
mere  echoes  of  approbation 

I  have  long  hoped  and  prayed  that  some  of  our  enlighten- 
ed friends,  who  are  able  to  take  large  views  of  usefulness  and 
duty,  and  with  whom  divine  Providence  has  intrusted  the 
means  of  doing  good  upon  a  liberal  scale,  would  come  forward 
in  this  exigency,  and  give  extended,  effective  relief  to  sufier- 
II.  K 


218  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

ing  interests,  the  importance  of  which  they  know  so  well  how 
to  appreciate.  Such  instances  of  nohle  liberality  are  common 
in  other  denominations,  and  nearly  all  our  Northern  colleges 
have  professorships  endowed  by  the  pious  munificence  of  in- 
dividuals whose  honored  names  they  bear. 

I  can  not  help  regarding  it  as  one  of  the  most  glorious  re- 
sults of  our  free  institutions,  especially  of  the  voluntary  sys- 
tem in  religion,  that  men  have  risen  up  in  the  various  walks 
of  life — but  chiefly  among  active  business  men — of  a  patri- 
otism so  elevated  and  a  Christian  philanthropy  so  large.  I 
know  not  who  else  can,  with  equal  justice,  lay  claim  to  the 
character  of  public  benefactors.  It  is  a  high,  inspiring 
thought — that  of  laying  the  deep  foundations  of  a  usefulness 
which  shall  live  and  confer  rich  blessings  on  those  who  come 
after  us — of  opening  a  fountain  of  living  waters  that  may  flow 
on  perpetually,  to  cheer,  and  purify,  and  heal,  through  the 
long  years  of  coming  generations — to  kindle  a  light  that  shall 
diffuse  radiance  and  gladness  over  the  present,  and,  with  the 
blessing  of  God,  illuminate  the  unmeasured  expanse  which 
is  to  be  filled  up  by  the  history  of  our  Church  and  our  pos- 
terity. I  have  long  hoped  and  prayed  that  Methodists  would 
be  found  to  imitate  these  bright  examples.  There  are  rich, 
intelligent,  large-hearted  men  among  us,  who  both  fear  and 
scorn  to  "  live  unto  themselves  or  die  unto  themselves."  They 
love  Christ — they  love  the  Church — they  love  their  species. 
"Will  they  not  see,  in  the  condition  and  wants  of  an  institu- 
tion consecrated  to  the  Savior — the  child  of  Methodism,  and 
its  chosen  instrument  for  the  performance  of  sacred  and  long- 
neglected  duties  to  its  ingenuous  youth  and  to  the  world — 
such  an  opportunity  of  promoting  the  dearest  interests  of  re- 
ligion and  humanity  as  must  commend  itself  to  their  stron- 
gest, holiest  sympathies  ?  Beyond  all  question,  such  a  sac- 
rifice would  be  very  acceptable  to  God,  and  approved  by  all 
who  love  his  cause.  It  would  do  incalculable  good,  not  to 
the  Wesleyan  University  alone,  but  to  the  whole  needy  fam- 


DUTY    OF    PARENTS.  219 

ily  of  Methodist  colleges.  We  want  such  examples.  They 
would  certainly  be  imitated,  and  so  a  high,  vital  influence 
would  be  given  to  the  neglected  cause  of  education  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  the  connection.  The  man  who 
shall  first  give  his  name  to  be  associated  with  the  memory 
of  a  generous  endowment  to  a  Methodist  University  will 
make  of  it  a  more  potent  argument  for  Christian  liberality 
and  Christian  education  than  the  most  eloquent  advocate  of 
the  holy  interests  of  our  Church  has  ever  yet  been  able  to 
wield.* 

February,  1845. 

CXXI.  OUR  COLLEGES— DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 

Every  Methodist  congregation  and  every  Methodist  should 
be  brought  to  feel  that  the  right  education  of  our  youth  is  a 
high  trust  which  it  would  be  shameful  to  violate — a  Chris- 
tian duty  which  it  would  be  criminal  to  neglect.  Not  the 
preacher  only,  but  the  teacher — not  the  Church  only,  but  the 
college  and  the  school,  must  be  recognized  as  the  agents  and 
instruments  by  which  our  Zion  is  to  be  enlarged  and  beauti- 
fied. "We  much  need  an  enlightened,  high-toned,  and  sus- 
tained public  sentiment  on  the  subject  of  education,  as  the  ba- 
sis of  our  arrangements  and  practical  demonstrations.  When 
that  point  shall  once  be  secured,  we  shall  have  surmounted 
the  chief  of  the  difficulties  that  now  impede  this  indispensa- 
ble melioration,  and  subsequent  progress  will  be  comparative- 
ly easy.  Let  the  benefits  of  liberal  education  be  extended  to 
a  sufficient  number  of  the  present  generation  of  our  youth, 
and  their  example  will  act  upon  their  successors  with  pow- 
erful and  even  increasing  efficiency.  The  younger  brother 

*  It  afforded  Dr.  Olin  high  gratification,  some  years  after,  to  hear 
of  the  noble  liberality  of  a  friend  whom  he  had  known  at  the  South, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Wofford,  a  local  preacher  in  the  Methodist  Church,  who 
left  $100,000  to  establish  a  college  in  South  Carolina,  the  state  in 
which  he  resided. 


220  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

will  covet  as  a  boon  and  claim  as  a  right  all  the  privileges 
which  have  been  enjoyed  by  the  elder — the  most  ingenious 
and  most  courageous  spirits  of  each  successive  class  in  the 
academy  will  eagerly  follow  their  distinguished  predecessors 
to  the  theatre  of  a  higher  intellectual  training — the  sons,  with 
pious  emulation,  will  crowd  the  halls  of  learning  in  which 
their  fathers  won  honorable  distinction,  and  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  eminence,  and  usefulness,  and  virtue.  These  are  per- 
manent sources  of  patronage  and  supply,  unknown  to  new 
institutions,  and  to  a  people  but  just  embarking  in  education- 
al enterprises,  though  every  well-directed  effort  and  every 
year  of  successful  progress  contribute  to  their  formation  and 
efficiency.  One  of  the  most  pressing  wants  of  our  higher  lit- 
erary institutions  would  be  relieved  by  the  general  diffusion 
of  a  spirit  of  education  among  the  people  ;  and  it  is,  perhaps, 
unreasonable  to  look  for  any  effectual  remedy  for  existing  de- 
ficiencies until  parents  shall  be  more  deeply  impressed  with 
the  duty  and  the  good  policy  of  giving  to  their  sons  the  best 
education  within  the  reach  of  their  means.  Few,  compara- 
tively, of  our  Methodist  families  have  yet  been  brought  to  feel 
the  importance  of  this  subject.  Many  fathers  among  us  even 
discourage  the  noble  aspirations  of  their  sons,  and  studiously 
divert  them  from  a  career  for  which  their  -intellectual  capac- 
ities, their  tastes,  and  decided  inclinations  have  prepared 
them.  Noble  minds,  formed  by  the  nancl  of  God  to  be  ben- 
efactors of  the  community  and  lights  to  the  Church,  are  thus 
consigned  to  ignorance  and  obscurity.  Others  are  left  to  an 
unequal  struggle  with  pecuniary  difficulties,  and  are  at  length 
stopped  in  the  high  road  to  the  largest  usefulness  and  the 
highest  happiness,  for  the  want  of  aid,  which  would  cost  the 
poorest  no  sacrifice,  and  inflict  on  his  family  no  wrong.  Ev- 
ery observant  and  sympathizing  teacher  is  but  too  familiar 
with  instances  of  the  kind  I  have  mentioned ;  but  no  one, 
probably,  could  estimate  the  amount  of  evil  which  is  thus  in- 
flicted upon  the  Church  and  on  civil  society. 


AN     ACCEPTABLE     OFFERING.  221 

What  a  glorious  change  would  the  next  ten  years  accom- 
plish for  our  denomination  if  every  Methodist  father  who  has 
an  intelligent,  virtuous  son,  resolve  at  once  to  consecrate  to 
the  service  of  God  and  his  country  one  disciplined,  well-fur- 
nished, and  well-principled  intellect.  Brief  as  this  period  is, 
it  would  be  sufficient  to  quadruple  our  moral  and  intellectual 
power.  The  conception  of  so  exalted  a  purpose,  and  the  first 
entrance  on  so  generous  an  enterprise,  would  elevate  the  tone 
of  thought,  and  feeling,  and  hope  throughout  all  the  families 
of  our  Israel.  We  should  speedily  be  prepared  to  demand 
and  fill  our  proper  place  in  the  great  business  of  public  in- 
struction. Our  voice  would  be  heard  in  high  places,  where 
the  rights  and  wrongs  of  men  in  the  public  weal  are  matters 
of  debate.  Authorship  and  the  learned  professions  would 
give  us  our  equitable  share  of  the  strong  positions  of  human 
society,  where  the  most  good  can  be  done  and'  the  most  evil 
prevented  ;  and,  best  of  all,  if  God  should  continue  to  honor 
our  institutions,  as  he  has  hitherto  done,  by  the  dews  of  his 
grace  and  the  calls  of  his  Spirit,  we  should  have  a  noble  army 
of  ministers  and  missionaries,  thoroughly  furnished  for  every 
good  work,  and  mighty,  through  God,  to  the  pulling  down  of 
the  strong-holds  of  sin.  No  event  could  be  so  auspicious  to 
the  true  interests  of  religion  and  humanity  as  such  a  move- 
ment in  the  cause*  *of  education. 

Improvements,  however,  which  depend  on  the  dissemina- 
tion of  new  ideas  among  a  multitude,  and  on  changes  in  es- 
tablished habits  of  thought  and  action,  can  be  introduced 
only  by  patient  and  persevering  efforts.  Yet  enough  might 
easily  and  speedily  be  effected  for  the  sacred  interests  of  ed- 
ucation to  satisfy  the  more  urgent  wants  and  duties  of  the 
Church,  and  fill  our  higher  institutions  with  pupils  of  the 
most  promising  character.  The  strength  of  the  denomina- 
tion lies  among  those  classes  of  society  which  habitually  give 
to  the  country  its  strongest  minds,  as  well  as  its  strongest 
hands.  Three  fourths  of  all  the  educated  men  in  the  nation, 


222  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

and  a  much  larger  proportion  of  our  effective  and  useful  cler- 
gymen, teachers,  and  professional  men,  are  the  sons  of  indus- 
trious agriculturists  and  mechanics.  On  the  farm  and  in 
the  workshop  they  learned  those  lessons  of  industry,  and  self- 
reliance,  and  manly  independence  which  have  given  them  the 
victory  in  after  life  over  delicate,  timid,  indolent,  and  luxuri- 
ous competitors,  and  over  labor,  and  opposition,  and  adversity. 
Just  so  long  as  their  virtuous,  brave,  hard-working  fathers 
shall  continue  to  give  instructors  and  rulers  to  the  people  will 
there  be  some  fair  chance  for  the  perpetuation  of  a  govern- 
ment of  equal  privileges  and  equal  laws.  In  England,  and 
over  the  continent  of  Europe,  the  son  of  a  working  man  is 
rarely  seen  in  the  university  or  in  professional  life.  Here 
they  constitute  the  mass  of  students,  of  scholars,  of  ministers, 
and  legislators.  He  must  be  short-sighted,  indeed,  who  does 
not  see  in  this  hereditary  and  essential  republicanism  of  our 
educated  men  a  strong  pledge  and  hope  for  the  liberties  of 
our  posterity.  This  potent  guarantee  we  can  not  afford  to 
lose.  It  is  not  enough  that  good  common  schools  impart  ele- 
mentary knowledge  to  the  masses.  The  capabilities  which 
primary  instruction  develops  must  be  nurtured  by  a  higher 
culture,  and  so  fitted  to  bless  and  preserve  this  free  communi- 
ty. I  look  upon  that  man  as  the  truest  of  Christians  and  of 
patriots  who  works  with  his  hands  that  he  may  educate  an 
intelligent,  free,  noble-hearted  son  for  the  service  of  God  and 
his  country.  I  have  known  Christian  fathers  and  mothers, 
too,  who  cheerfully  devoted  the  accumulations  of  toilsome, 
careful  years  to  the  attainment  of  this  darling  object  of  their 
lives  ;  and  I  profess  that  I  have  seldom  felt  a  reverence  so 
profound  for  any  other  forms  of  Christian  virtue  and  parental 
affection.  The  presence  of  so  lofty  and  pure  a  motive  sweet- 
ens labor  and  ennobles  economy,  and  it  seldom  fails  of  intro- 
ducing into  the  humblest  family  circle  a  liberalizing  era  of 
large  views  and  generous  desires,  highly  favorable  to  physical 
as  well  as  moral  improvement,  and  to  general  respectability 


RESPONSIBILITY     OF     PARENTS.  223 

and  success  in  the  world.  In  no  other  region  does  this  hero- 
ic spirit  prevail  to  the  same  extent  as  in  New  England  and 
New  York.  It  is  the  distinguishing  characteristic  and  glory 
of  our  virtuous  and  truly  intellectual  population,  and  instinct 
as  it  is  with  a  high-toned,  scriptural  piety,  we  must  pronounce 
this  spirit  to  be  the  solitary  antidote  to  all  the  downward  tend- 
encies, inherent  or  accidental,  which  our  social  and  political 
system  is  thought  by  many  good  men  more  and  more  to  dis- 
close. It  might  be  too  much  to  affirm  that  our  institutions 
will  be  safe  so  long  as  the  masses,  enlightened  themselves 
by  a  sound  elementary  education,  shall  train  up  the  choicest 
of  their  sons  to  be  the  guides  and  rulers  of  the  people  ;  but 
we  can  have  safety  on  no  easier  terms.  On  no  other  condi- 
tion is  the  enjoyment  of  so  large  a  liberty  possible. 

But  I  check  myself,  and  turn  away  from  these  more  gen- 
eral views  and  reflections  to  the  practical  conclusion  to  which 
they  conduct  us.  It  is  for  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  our 
Methodist  families  to  determine  whether  the  Church  shall 
ever  perform  to  itself,  to  its  Lord,  and  to  the  world  the  great 
duty  which  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  develop  and  inculcate. 
Over  the  domain  of  childhood  and  youth  they  reign,  without 
rivalry.  God  has  intrusted  to  their  keeping  and  culture 
many  germs  of  intellect  and  genius  —  the  undeveloped  re- 
sources of  a  vast  mental  and  moral  power.  If  this  care  of 
immortal  beings — this  trust  held  for  the  Gospel  and  for  man- 
kind— for  the  present  and  for  future  generations — for  time 
and  eternity — involves  high,  social,  and  religious  responsibil- 
ities, then  they,  more  than  all  others,  have  a  deep  stake  in  the 
issue.  They  can  easily  supply  the  most  urgent  of  our  wants. 
All  the  world  besides  can  not,  for  there  is  no  authority  under 
heaven  that  has  a  right  to  interfere,  except  by  argument  and 
entreaty,  with  the  destiny  to  which  they  shall  consign  their 
offspring.  Would  Christian  parents,  then,  rejoice  to  see  the 
Church  of  their  choice  prosperous  and  influential,  respectable 
and  useful  ?  They  can  make  it  so.  By  the  blessing  of  God, 


224  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

they  can  insure  its  stability  and  extend  its  triumphs.  Many 
on  whom  this  great  responsibility  rests  are  in  easy  circum- 
stances, and  could  bestow  on  the  Church  and  their  own  sons 
the  most  excellent  of  gifts,  without  the  slightest  inconven- 
ience. Many  more  could  accomplish  this  object  by  such  sac- 
rifices as  they  might  well  afford  to  make  for  the  attainment 
of  such  an  end.  Two  hundred  dollars  per  annum  is  a  suffi- 
cient allowance  to  meet  all  the  expenses  of  a  collegiate  course. 
One  hundred  dollars  will  answer  for  a  resolute,  enterprising 
young  man,  disposed  to  help  himself  and  practice  a  rigid  econ- 
omy. A  liberal  education,  for  which  the  parent  may  not  pay 
over  five  hundred  dollars,  or  one  thousand  dollars,  is  likely  to 
be  more  valuable  to  a  youth  of  good  natural  parts  than  ten 
or  twenty  times  the  amount  received  in  any  other  form.  As 
a  pecuniary  transaction,  no  other  investment  is  half  so  safe 
or  promising.  Such  considerations,  however,  must  be  esteem- 
ed of  very  inferior  importance  in  a  question  which  involves 
moral  results  so  vast  in  their  number  and  magnitude.  I 
have  already  dwelt  upon  them  at  sufficient  length,  and  can. 
only  repeat  that,  in  my  opinion,  no  good  man  can  bestow 
upon  the  Church  and  his  country  a  greater  boon  than  a  pious, 
intellectual,  well-educated  son. 
February,  1845. 

CXXII.  COLLEGIATE  EDUCATION— DUTY  OF  YOUNG  MEN. 

All  important  changes,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil,  begin 
•with  the  young.  Middle-aged  men  seldom  retain  the  power 
to  modify  habits,  the  growth  of  only  a  few  active  years,  while 
even  the  opinions  of  the  aged  are  for  the  most  part  unchange- 
able. Such  are  the  safeguards  which  the  Divine  wisdom  has 
provided  in  our  nature  against  rash  and  hasty  innovations. 
The  indifference  or  opposition  which  zealous  advocates  of 
improvement  are  prone  to  regard  as  captious  or  obstinate  is 
often  but  the  result  of  a  vis  inertia,  whose  proper  function  is 
to  prevent  anomalous  or  exaggerated  action.  The  greatest 


RESPONSIBILITY    OP    YOUNG    MEN.  225 

improvements  may  be  only  great  evils,  if  they  violate  too 
grossly  the  proprieties  of  time  and  manner,  and  he  may  be  a 
public  benefactor  who  resists  and  retards,  no  less  than  he 
who  promotes  them.  If  reforms  are  made  difficult  and  slow 
by  this  constitutional  repugnance  to  change,  they  find  in  the 
same  cause,  when  once  they  have  been  introduced,  the  stron- 
gest guarantee  of  stability,  and  a  lasting  influence.  The  te- 
dious years  which  must  commonly  be  given  to  discussions,  to 
demonstrations,  and  earnest  appeals  in  behalf  of  any  great 
public  interest  that  has  long  been  overlooked  or  neglected, 
are  at  length  seen  not  to  have  been  too  many  for  a  due  prep- 
aration of  the  common  mind  for  the  reception  of  new  and 
momentous  truths,  and  the  adoption  of  important  changes. 
The  season  of  delay  often  proves  to  have  been  but  the  seed- 
time, the  sunshine,  and  the  showers  requisite  for  the  produc- 
tion of  the  golden  harvest.  The  argument  and  the  exhorta- 
tion, which  were  lost  upon  the  fathers,  fell,  as  if  by  accident, 
on  the  listening  ears  of  their  children,  and  silently  but  surely 
imbued  an  entire  generation  with  new  opinions  and  convic- 
tions. 

This  source  of  encouragement  belongs  peculiarly  to  the 
advocates  of  education.  Whoever  may  fail  to  be  convinced 
by  their  arguments,  or  moved  to  action  by  their  expostula- 
tions, the  ingenuous,  aspiring  hearts  of  the  young  are  certain 
to  be  with  them.  It  is  for  the  young  that  institutions  of 
learning  are  established  and  endowed,  and  if  they  should  be 
found  wanting  in  spirit,  and  energy,  and  largeness  of  views, 
then  all  the  sacrifices  which  have  been  made  for  the  advance- 
ment of  this  object  will  have  been  misdirected.  The  respons- 
ibility of  young  men  is  inconceivably  great ;  and  if  the  theme 
were  not  trite  and  exhausted,  I  would  hope  to  urge  it  upon 
them  with  some  good  effect.  In  ten  years  more,  they  who 
are  now  boys  and  minors  will  be  chief  instruments  in  carry- 
ing out  all  plans  of  melioration  and  mercy  for  mankind. 
Within  that  brief  period  they  will  become  the  teachers  of  our 
K  2 


226  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

schools,  and  the  tutors  of  our  academies  and  colleges.  Their 
voices  will  be  heard  in  legislative  halls,  though  men  so  young 
may  still  be  more  fit  for  action  than  for  counsel.  All  elec- 
tions will  be  controlled  by  their  superior  activity  ;  so  that,  if 
not  yet  our  rulers  themselves,  they  will  make  our  rulers,  and 
thus  virtually  decide  the  great  questions  that  may  arise, 
whether  of  peace,  or  war,  or  domestic  policy.  Pulpits  vacant 
for  want  of  ministers,  or  vacated  by  their  death,  will,  within 
a  dozen  years,  be  filled  by  the  men  who  are  now  boys  at 
school  or  debating  whether  they  shall  go  to  school ;  and  none 
but  young  men  are  sent  out,  or  can  properly  be  sent,  as  mis- 
sionaries. 

Within  the  whole  range  of  human  inquiry,  can  there  be  a 
question  raised  more  deeply  significant  than  this,  "  How  shall 
these  embryo  lawgivers,  and  teachers,  and  divines — the  fu- 
ture guardians  of  the  public  weal,  and  the  pastors  and  mes- 
sengers of  the  Churches — be  prepared  to  fulfill  their  high 
destiny  ?"  There  will  certainly  be  an  immense  demand  for 
talents  and  virtues  of  every  sort,  but  the  foundations  of  use- 
fulness and  success  must  be  laid  in  a  thorough  education. 
Every  civilized  and  improving  community  is  perpetually  tend- 
ing to  a  state  in  which  high  intellectual  culture  is  an  indis- 
pensable qualification  for  all  professions  and  positions  favor- 
able to  the  exercise  of  extensive  influence.  Ignorant,  un- 
taught men,  may,  for  a  long  time  to  come,  perhaps  always, 
find  their  way  into  high  stations,  but  these  will  not  be  to 
them  posts  either  of  honor  or  influence.  Whoever  wears  the 
titles,  or  bears  away  the  emoluments  of  office  or  position,  the 
real  source  of  influence  and  moral  power  is  in  the  cultivated 
minds  of  a  community  ;  and  the  humblest  schoolmaster  or 
clergyman,  engaged  in  the  intelligent  and  conscientious  dis- 
charge of  his  appropriate  duties,  contributes  vastly  more  to 
the  formation  and  control  of  public  sentiment  than  the  mere 
empty  demagogue  whom  accident  or  dishonest  acts  have  ex- 
alted to  the  Senate,  which  he  disgusts  and  dishonors  by  his 


LABORERS     NEEDED.  227 

vapid  declamation.  No  error  is  more  prevalent  or  mischiev- 
ous than  that  which  leads  the  aspiring  youth  to  regard  polit- 
ical distinctions  and  offices  as  highly  desirable.  This  low 
amhition  exerts  a  malign  influence  upon  our  young  men.  It 
sets  them  to  work  upon  an  unworthy  motive,  and  gives  a 
wrong  direction  to  their  efforts. 

The  true  end  of  education  and  of  life,  so  far  as  the  indi- 
vidual is  concerned,  is  the  highest  improvement  of  the  intel- 
lectual and  moral  powers  ;  so  far  as  others  are  concerned,  it 
is  the  best  employment  of  these  powers  in  doing  good  to  our 
fellow-creatures  and  in  glorifying  God.  Now  these  ends  are 
often,  I  think,  commonly  more  fully  attained  in  the  consci- 
entious and  earnest  discharge  of  the  duties  of  private  and  pro- 
fessional life,  than  by  the  incumbents  of  what  are  usually  re- 
garded more  honorable  and  desirable  stations.  The  teacher 
who  has  roused  the  dormant  energies  of  half  a  dozen  pupils, 
and  given  to  them  a  virtuous  direction,  has  done  more  for  the 
well-being  of  his  race  than  a  conspicuous  politician  usually 
accomplishes  during  a  whole  lifetime.  The  faithful  pastor 
of  the  humblest  congregation  commonly  achieves  more  for 
the  glory  of  God  and  the  happiness  of  man  than  a  member 
of  Congress  or  a  cabinet  minister. 

The  positions  and  pursuits  which  promise  the  greatest  use- 
fulness are  precisely  those  which  are  the  most  easily  accessi- 
ble to  all  well-educated  men  who  are  willing  to  labor,  and 
are  zealous  for  truth  and  righteousness.  "The  field  is  the 
world."  It  invites  culture  from  every  willing  hand,  and 
every  degree  of  talent,  and  enterprise,  and  devotion  finds 
scope  for  manifestation,  finds  welcome  and  encouragement, 
and  a  good  reward.  There  is  no  room  for  fear  lest  this  high 
vocation  to  usefulness  shall  fail  or  be  overdone.  To  the  en- 
tire host  of  young  men  who  have  the  heart  to  volunteer  in 
such  a  service,  and  the  nerve  to  qualify  themselves  for  its  du 
ties  by  wholesome  mental  and  moral  discipline,  we  may  safely 
announce,  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them."  He  has  designs 


228  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

of  mercy  not  yet  half  accomplished  in  this  Christian  land, 
and  scarcely  announced  to  three  fourths  of  the  world.  "  The 
harvest  truly  is  great,  and  the  laborers  are  few."  The  Lord 
of  the  harvest  wants  sowers ;  He  wants  reapers.  Let  no 
one  be  over-curious  to  know  beforehand  what  part  shall  be 
assigned  to  him,  assured  that,  in  any  event,  he  shall  have 
work  enough.  No  convinced  and  earnest  soul  ever  inquired, 
"  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  without  having  em- 
ployment assigned  him,  and  employment  worthy  a  pupil  of 
Gamaliel.  No  weeping  Hannah  ever  vowed  her  first-born 
to  God,  and  "  took  him  up  with  her  to  the  house  of  the 
Lord,"  without  finding  for  him  some  place  and  some  func- 
tion honored  with  the  Divine  approbation. 

Thus  far  I  have  endeavored  to  show  the  imperative  de- 
mand for  well-educated  young  men,  and  to  remove  some  of 
the  apprehensions  which  are  likely  to  be  felt  by  those  who 
have  proceeded  so  far  as  to  send  out  upon  this  field  of  enter- 
prise an  exploring  glance.  I  have  shown,  I  hope  satisfacto- 
rily, that  there  is  yet  room  in  the  vineyard  for  a  host  of  well- 
trained  laborers,  and  that  there  is  little  danger  of  a  supera- 
bundant supply.  My  remarks  have  been  general,  but  the 
argument  and  the  exhortation  of  which  they  are  the  vehicle 
find  additional  force  in  their  special  application  to  the  state 
of  education  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  Upon  our 
grievous  wants  and  our  overwhelming  responsibilities  I  have 
before  dwelt  at  sufficient  length.  I  have  also  tried  to  incul- 
cate the  duty  of  providing  more  ample  means  for  the  educa- 
tion of  our  youth.  I  would  now  appeal  more  directly  to 
those  for  whom  all  this  preparation  is  made,  and  who  must, 
in  the  end,  be  the  chief  instruments  of  the  melioration  sought 
for.  Comparatively  few  of  our  young  men  are  sufficiently 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  education.  Hundreds  there  are  of 
the  best  natural  parts  and  the  best  dispositions,  to  whom  it 
has  hardly  occurred  that  by  devoting  a  few  years  to  intellect- 
ual culture  they  may  vastly  augment  their  resources  for 


RESOURCES     OF     A     CULTIVATED     MIND.        229 

usefulness  and  happiness.  They  have  not  failed  to  perceive 
our  want  of  educated  men,  but  have  not  thought  of  the 
very  obvious  truth  that  it  is  for  them,  and  such  as  they,  to 
supply  the  want.  If  they  shall  shrink  from  the  labor  and 
sacrifice  —  if  they  lack  the  philanthropy,  the  zeal,  and  the 
high  aspirations  necessary  for  this  work,  it  can  never  be  done. 
The  Church  looks  to  them  ;  it  can  look  nowhere  else  in  this 
emergency.  Every  argument  which  goes  to  demonstrate  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  the  Church  to  provide  the  means  of  educa- 
tion, is  equally  conclusive  as  to  the  duty  of  her  sons  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  means  provided. 

There  are  always  enough  of  merely  selfish  motives  to  in- 
duce an  intelligent  youth  to  prefer  the  career  which  a  liberal 
education  opens  before  him  to  common  pursuits.  As  a  pe- 
cuniary question,  it  is  the  best  investment  he  can  make  of  so 
much  money  and  time.  In  the  new  form  which  he  thus 
gives  to  his  capital,  it  is  exempted  from  most  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes and  liabilities  to  which  all  branches  of  business  are  ex- 
posed, for  the  resources  of  a  cultivated  intellect  remain  un- 
impaired after  mere  pecuniary  treasures  have  vanished,  and 
the  permanent  wants  of  civilized  society  insure  for  them  am- 
ple and  worthy  employment.  It  is  also  a  consideration  of 
vast  moment,  that  the  pursuits  of  an  educated  man  perpet- 
ually and  naturally  tend  to  enlarge  and  improve  his  intellect- 
ual powers.  If  faithful  to  himself,  he  is  constantly  becoming 
a  wiser  and  a  better  man,  more  fitted  to  understand  and  per- 
form the  duties  of  life,  and  growing  evermore  in  the  large- 
ness of  his  comprehension  and  the  strength  of  his  reason. 
This  single  consideration  is  enough  to  rouse  the  generous 
mind  of  youth  to  the  utmost  exertion,  and  to  arm  it  against 
all  discouragements  that  beset  this,  as  well  as  other  plans  of 
life. 

After  all,  however,  this  great  interest  must  look  to  those 
who  acknowledge  a  higher  principle  of  action  than  mere 
selfishness  and  worldly  ambition.  The  young  man  who  has 


230  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

not  yet  learned  to  recognize  in  the  obligations  of  duty  his 
strongest  motives  to  action,  has  not  yet  begun  to  live  in  earn- 
est. "  How  can  I  do  the  most  good  ?"  is  the  only  question 
which  a  rational,  immortal  being  should  desire  or  dare  to 
consider  in  settling  his  plans  of  life.  Let  every  youth  who 
has  followed  me  in  this  discussion  put  this  deeply  momentous 
question  to  himself,  "  How  can  I  do  the  most  good  ?  how 
most  honor  God,  and  most  bless  the  world  ?" 

Has  he  a  good  capacity  and  good  health — "  a  sound  mind 
in  a  sound  body  ?"  Is  he  imbued  with  a  love  of  virtue  and 
of  humanity  ?  Unquestionably,  then,  he  possesses  talents 
which,  with  due  culture,  will  qualify  him  for  great  usefulness. 
He  may  fit  himself  by  patient  industry  to  become  an  efficient 
co-worker  with  good  men  and  with  God  in  enterprises  which 
promise  the  regeneration  of  the  world.  He  has  in  embryo 
the  elements  of  the  truest  greatness.  His  destiny,  if  he  will 
have  it  so,  will  liken  him  to  the  benefactors  of  his  race. 
Splendor  of  genius,  high  birth  or  position,  wealth — these  are 
not  necessary  to  great  usefulness  or  true  glory.  They  about 
as  often  bring  evil  as  good  on  their  possessor  and  on  the 
world ;  while  a  fair  mind,  and  high  principles,  and  a  warm 
heart,  with  an  earnest,  unalterable  purpose  to  devote  all  to 
a  good  cause,  will  never  fail  of  securing  to  their  possessor  an 
honorable  rank  among  his  contemporaries.  These  staple  es- 
sential conditions  for  honorable  standing  and  usefulness  are 
not  rare  among  the  children  of  Christian  families.  God  has 
sown  the  seed  of  all  the  virtues  which  he  requires  in  his  peo- 
ple very  bountifully,  but  the  culture  must  be  theirs.  Let 
every  young  man  stir  up  the  gift  that  is  in  him.  Let  him 
invite  and  welcome  the  impulses  of  a  pure,  ennobling  ambi- 
tion— the  ambition  of  being  truly  wise  and  of  doing  good. 

In  the  early  youth  of  almost  every  one  there  occurs  a  crisis 
decisive  of  his  character  and  destiny.  Most  persons  pass 
through  this  critical  period  without  giving  heed  to  its  instruct- 
ive omens,  and  follow  whatever  direction  the  chances  of  the 


CRITICAL     PERIOD.  231 

journey  of  life  may  give  them.  Happy  are  they  who  pause 
at  the  threshold  and  deliberately  choose  their  course.  This 
is  the  time  for  sober  reflection  and  forethought — for  good 
counsel  and  earnest  prayer.  It  is  a  time  for  the  parent  and 
the  pastor  to  interfere  with  unsolicited  advice,  for  none  can 
guess  how  much  of  good  or  of  evil  may  be  suspended  on  the 
decisions  of  such  a  day.  The  youth  who  deliberately  and 
conscientiously  resolves  to  enter  upon  a  course  of  liberal  study, 
in  order  that  he  may  qualify  himself  for  a  larger  sphere  of 
right  action,  and  for  higher  thoughts  and  enjoyments,  brings 
into  his  soul,  by  such  a  choice,  a  new  and  mighty  element  of 
moral  and  intellectual  power.  He  has  conceived  a  manly 
and  ennobling  purpose,  which  is  likely  to  give  new  earnest- 
ness to  his  character  and  a  richer  coloring  to  his  whole  exist- 
ence. In  proportion  as  his  mind  is  pure  and  generous  in  its 
sentiments,  will  its  devotion  to  its  chosen  career,  at  once  so 
full  of  great  toils  and  great  hopes,  become  more  and  more  en- 
tire and  unalterable.  He  will  feel,  and  he  should  feel,  the 
constraining  influence  of  a  solemn  vow,  which  there  would  be 
shame  as  well  as  guilt  in  violating.  To  fall  back  from  such 
a  resolve  through  timidity,  or  fickleness,  or  impatience  of  labor, 
or  opposition,  is  unworthy  the  manly  spirit  in  which  it  had 
its  origin,  and  ominous  of  instability  and  miscarriage  in  com- 
mon pursuits.  In  this  country  any  young  man  of  good  talents 
and  good  health,  and  a  strong  ivill,  can  get  a  liberal  educa- 
tion, and  it  usually  augurs  deficiency  in  some  of  the  best  ele- 
ments of  character  to  sink  under  discouragements  which 
others  have  overcome  by  enterprise  and  perseverance.  What 
great  matter  is  it  to  work  with  the  hands  or  teach  a  school 
in  order  to  eke  out  scanty  means  of  support  ?  What  young 
man  of  promise,  and  deserving  of  confidence,  may  not  obtain 
credit  with  some  friend  for  such  part  of  the  expenses  of  his 
education  as  he  is  unable  to  meet  by  his  own  exertions  ? 
Diligence  and  strict  economy,  for  one  or  two  years  after  his 
graduation,  will  enable  him  to  refund  the  loan,  and  leave  him 


232  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


at  liberty  to  enter  unembarrassed  upon  the  pursuits  to  which 
he  has  pledged  his  learning  and  his  life. 

Not  a  few  are  interrupted  in  the  career  of  education  by  ill 
health  or  by  domestic  calamities,  for  which  the  stoutest  spirit 
can  provide  no  antidote.  Such  deserve  and  receive  from  gen- 
erous hearts  the  deepest  sympathy,  but  a  feeling  less  com- 
patible with  respect  is  sometimes  provoked  by  a  cowardly 
submission  to  untoward  circumstances,  which  a  little  resolu- 
tion and  resistance  would  be  sufficient  to  control. 

On  the  contrary,  there  is  nowhere  to  be  seen  a  finer  ex- 
hibition of  high  character  than  a  noble-hearted,  virtuous  youth 
wrestling  with  Fortune,  and  triumphing  over  her  unkindness. 
Nothing  is  able  to  divert  him  from  the, great  objects  to  which 
he  has  devoted  his  life,  or  to  lower  the  aims  of  his  earnest, 
indomitable  spirit.  However  often  he  may  be  driven  away 
from  his  chosen  pursuits  by  the  urgency  of  his  wants,  he  re- 
turns again  and  again  to  the  academic  shades,  unconquered 
and  invincible,  till  he  has  satisfied  his  vow,  and  girded  him- 
self to  go  forth  before  the  world  on  a  higher  mission.  For 
myself,  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  feel  a  respect  bordering  on 
veneration  for  such  young  men  ;  and  if  religion  mingle  with 
and  purify  their  motives,  I  know  not  what  may  be  wanting 
in  such  examples  to  the  truest  Christian  heroism.  Such  in- 
etances,  and,  thank  God,  they  are  not  few,  minister  both  en- 
couragement and  reproof  to  the  timid,  the  fickle,  and  the  faith- 
less, who,  for  causes  slight  and  vincible,  are  so  often  ready  to 
decline  or  to  abandon  a  career  of  so  much  honor  and  so  much 
usefulness.  Why  should  a  man,  and  a  young  man,  ever  con- 
clude that  he  can  not  do  what  is  practicable  ?  Why  should 
he  retreat  at  the  sight  of  difficulties  not  insuperable  ?  Still 
more,  how  can  a  religious  young  man,  through  indolence,  or 
levity,  or  impatience,  or  to  consummate  some  premature,  un- 
blest,  matrimonial  engagement,  give  up  a  course  which  he 
entered  upon  from  enlightened  convictions  and  for  the  love 
of  Christ,  and  throw  himself,  half  taught,  upon  the  commit- 


SUGGESTION  TO  PASTORS.          233 

nity  or  the  Church,  destitute  of  the  much-needed  qualifica- 
tions which  Divine  Providence  had  placed  within  his  grasp  ? 
I  had  intended  to  invoke  the  aid  of  my  respected  fathers 
and  brethren  in  the  ministry  in  the  work  of  directing  the  at- 
tention of  young  men  to  the  duties  and  the  high  privileges 
which  I  have  endeavored  to  place  before  them.  I  can,  how- 
ever, do  no  more  at  present  than  offer  a  respectful  sugges- 
tion that  both  our  traveling  and  local  preachers  might  per- 
form an  excellent  service  to  the  Church  and  its  rising  youth 
by  exerting  their  influence,  on  all  proper  occasions,  to  increase 
the  number  of  students  in  our  academies,  and  yet  more-,  as 
more  needing  this  special  favor  in  our  colleges.  No  work 
could  be  more  truly  pastoral  and  Christian — in  no  other  way 
could  an  enlightened  minister  accomplish  so  much  with  so 
little  labor.  In  almost  every  neighborhood  and  congregation 
there  are  fine  boys  and  promising  young  men  who,  with  prop- 
er culture,  would  become  blessings  and  ornaments  to  the  com- 
munity and  to  the  Church.  It  may  yet  never  have  occurred 
to  them  to  devote  themselves  to  the  literary  pursuits  for  which 
they  possess  the  best  advantages,  pecuniary  as  well  as  intel- 
lectual and  moral.  All  that  is  wanting  in  hundreds  of  such 
cases  is  a  little  seasonable  advice  and  encouragement,  which 
will  come  from  the  pastor  with  peculiar  propriety  and  effect. 
There  is  hardly  a  circuit  or  station  where  a  vigilant,  enlight- 
ened man  may  not  find  some  fit  and  hopeful  candidate  for  an 
educational  career,  which,  with  God's  blessing,  may  give  to 
our  good  cause  a  skillful  teacher  or  a  faithful  minister.  Who- 
ever is  instrumental  in  developing  the  elements  of  moral  and 
intellectual  power,  latent  in  one  ingenuous  mind — whoever 
gives  to  the  Church  one  cultivated,  faithful  young  man,  fit 
to  be  an  instrument  in  working  out  the  good  which  she  is 
called  to  accomplish,  is,  in  the  highest  sense,  a  public  bene- 
factor. He  performs  a  good  work  before  men.  He  insures 
to  himself  a  good  reward,  in  recollections  adapted  to  cheer 
old  age  and  even  the  bed  of  death,  and  in  the  blessings  of 


234  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

those  who  are  ready  to  perish .     Under  God,  he  has  raised  up 
his  own  successor,  who  may  prove  a  Fisk  or  a  Ruter. 

Teachers  in  every  department,  from  the  Sunday-school  to 
the  noble  seminaries,  which  do  so  much  good  and  so  much 
honor  to  our  denomination,  have  it  in  their  power  to  give  a 
new  impetus  to  collegiate  education.  The  most  promising 
boys  ought  to  be  encouraged  to  look  forward  to  this  higher 
course  with  the  fullest  appreciation  of  its  advantages,  and 
the  large  classes  of  promising  youths  who  crowd  our  high 
schools  ought  to  send  up  twice  or  thrice  as  many  students  as 
they  now  do  to  the  university.  I  am  happy  to  know  that 
the  able  men  who  are  at  the  head  of  these  institutions  are 
fully  alive  to  the  importance  of  this  great  interest,  which  is 
deeply  indebted  already  to  their  zeal  and  co-operation.  I 
should  fail,  however,  to  express  my  full  sense  of  the  extent  of 
their  influence  over  the  destinies  of  education  in  our  Church, 
if  I  did  not  refer  to  the  controlling  position  which  they  occu- 
py in  reference  to  this  interest.  Unquestionably,  they  can  do 
more  than  any  class  of  persons  to  elevate  the  standard  of 
learning,  and  to  correct  the  prevailing  tendency  of  our  young 
men  to  be  satisfied  with  merely  an  academic  course.  Much 
may  be  done  to  diminish  this  great  evil  by  addresses,  by  pri- 
vate conversation  and  personal  influence.  Judicious  and 
timely  advice  may  often  be  decisive  of  the  destiny  of  a  noble 
mind  not  yet  made  conscious  of  its  own  powers,  and  of  the 
good  destiny  ready  to  be  secured  by  the  exertion  of  its  ener- 
gies. The  father  of  a  promising  son  may  only  need  the  teach- 
er's testimony  to  the  talents  and  proficiency  of  the  pupil,  in 
order  to  insure  to  him  the  larger  advantages  to  which  he  as- 
pires, and  which  he  is  prepared  to  improve  so  well.  A  sin- 
gle letter  or  an  earnest  conversation  may  remove  all  obstacles 
out  of  the  way,  and  introduce  a  fine  intellect  and  a  generous 
heart  into  a  career  of  extensive  usefulness  and  pure  enjoy- 
ment. I  can  not  close  this  discussion  of  a  subject,  which  I 
deem  of  such  vital  importance,  without  offering  an  humble 


LETTERS  FROM  CONSTANTINOPLE.    235 

prayer  to  the  Father  of  lights  that  it  may  be  made  subserv- 
ient to  the  best  interests  of  the  Church. 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 
Middletown,  April,  1845. 

CXXIII.  TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  ADVOCATE  AND 
JOURNAL. 

The  following  letters  from  Constantinople  have  just  reach- 
ed me.  My  reason  for  giving  them  to  the  public  will  be  ob- 
vious to  all  who  have  noticed  the  protracted  controversy  be- 
tween Dr.  Robinson  and  myself.  It  will  be  recollected  that 
in  my  "  Travels"  I  spoke  of  a  broken  arch,  supposed  to  be  the 
remains  of  an  ancient  bridge  connecting  the  Temple  with 
Mount  Zion,  as  having  been  known  to  Mr.  Catherwood,  and, 
as  I  understood,  to  other  travelers  and  residents.  For  this  I 
was  charged  with  plagiarism,  and  with  doing  great  injustice 
to  Dr.  Robinson,  who,  in  his  Biblical  Researches,  the  Biblio- 
theca  Sacra,  and  elsewhere,  claims  to  have  been  the  discov- 
erer of  this  interesting  monument,  and  especially  to  have 
been,  so  far  as  he  knows  or  believes,  the  first  to  recognize  in 
this  fragment  of  an  arch  the  remains  of  the  bridge  spoken  of 
by  Josephus.* 

*  The  pointing  out  and  determination  of  the  true  character  of  the 
arch  of  the  bridge  which  connected  the  Temple  with  Mount  Zion,  was 
considered  one  of  the  most  important  of  Dr.  Robinson's  discoveries. 
The  reviewer,  in  the  North  American  for  October,  1843,  complains 
that  Dr.  Olin  describes  the  same  remains,  and  not  only  makes  no  ac- 
knowledgment of  Dr.  Robinson's  discovery,  but  adds,  "  I  could  not 
learn  that  the  most  interesting  and  unquestionable  of  these  remains — 
the  massive  arch  of  the  ancient  bridge — had  been  so  much  as  men- 
tioned by  any  modern  traveler,  though  its  existence  has  long  been 
well  known  to  Europeans  and  other  residents,  as  well  as  visitors." 
"  The  first  part  of  this  sentence,"  continues  the  reviewer,  "  is  to  us 
wholly  inexplicable ;  the  remainder  we  know  to  be  a  mistake.  We 
are  assured,  on  good  authority,  that  in  Jerusalem  the  discovery  is 
uniformly  ascribed  to  Dr.  Robinson,  both  by  residents  and  travelers ; 
and  we  believe  that,  if  his  name  was  broadly  inscribed  on  the  front  of 


236  LIFE      AND     LETTERS. 

The  reader  will  learn  from  a  perusal  of  these  documents 
all  that  I  know  of  their  history.  Mr.  Homes  is  a  stranger  to 

the  ruin,  it  would  not  be  more  indelibly  associated  with  it  than  it  now 
is  in  the  mind  of  the  visitor.  These  remains,  of  course,  had  been  fre- 
quently examined  before ;  but  that,  previously  to  Dr.  Robinson's  visit, 
they  had  ever  been  connected  with  the  ancient  bridge,  is  considerably 
more  than  Dr.  Olin  is  authorized  to  affirm." 

"  Dr.  Olin's  travels  embody  the  more  interesting  results  of  Dr.  Rob- 
inson's Researches.  How  did  he  obtain  them"!  is  a  question  which 
intelligent  readers  will  ask.  He  appears  to  have  possessed  few  fa- 
cilities for  making  original  investigations,  was  an  invalid  during  his 
journey  as  well  as  subsequently,  and  was  not  particularly  thorough  in 
his  examinations.  We  are  compelled  to  believe  that,  on  some  im- 
portant points,  he  is  indebted  to  an  unacknowledged  use  of  Dr.  Rob- 
inson's discoveries,  arguments,  and  authorities." 

A  brief  reply  to  this  review  was  published  by  Dr.  Olin  in  the  North 
American  Review  for  January,  1844.  It  contained  a  full  and  unquali- 
fied denial  of  the  charge  of  plagiarism.  With  respect  to  Dr.  Robinson's 
claims  to  the  discovery  of  the  true  character  of  the  arch  of  the  bridge,  he 
says,  "  I  now  declare  that  I  never  saw  nor  heard  the  name  of  Dr.  Robin- 
son connected  with  this  subject  in  Jerusalem  or  elsewhere  until  I  read 
the  '  Researches,'  nearly  two  years  after  my  visit.  Having  no  reason 
to  distrust  my  own  information,  I,  of  course,  presumed  Dr.  Robinson 
was  in  error  in  regarding  himself  as  the  original  discoverer.  Mr.  Cath- 
erwood,  who  is  a  professional  architect,  and  the  author  of  the  plan  of 
Jerusalem,  always  in  my  hand,  in  which  he  had  laid  down  the  Temple, 
Mount  Zion,  and  the  valley  between  them,  across  which  the  arch  looks 
directly,  could  hardly  have  doubted  or  been  mistaken  with  regard  to 
its  design.  Mr.  Catherwood  has  often  told  me  since  that  my  account 
is  strictly  true,  and  that  he,  as  well  as  several  other  gentlemen  with 
whom  he  conversed  in  Jerusalem,  regarded  and  spoke  of  this  monu- 
ment as  the  remains  of  an  ancient  bridge  that  connected  the  Jewish 
Temple  with  Mount  Zion.  My  declaration  that  I  could  not  learn  that 
this  monument  had  been  mentioned  by  any  modern  traveler,  appears 
under  date  of  April  23d,  1840,  and  is  strictly  true.  I  should  have  re- 
ferred to  Dr.  Robinson's  account,  which  I  saw  nearly  two  years  after- 
ward, but  for  the  discrepancy  between  it  and  mine,  to  which,  for  in- 
sufficient reasons  it  may  be,  but  assuredly  not  from  selfish  ends,  nor 
from  any  unfriendly  feelings  toward  Dr.  Robinson,  I  did  not  wish  to 
attract  attention. 


LETTERS     FROM     CONSTANTINOPLE.          237 

me.  With  Mr.  Hamlin  I  formed  a  brief  and  interesting  ac- 
quaintance when  his  guest  in  Constantinople.  They  are  well 
known  in  this  country  and  the  East  as  missionaries  of  the 
American  Board,  distinguished  for  intelligence  and  Christian 
virtues.  It  is  due  to  these  gentlemen,  no  less  than  to  me, 
that  their  testimony  should  he  given  to  the  public.  I  would 
say  distinctly  that  I  have  had  no  communication  with  Messrs. 
Hamlin  and  Homes ;  their  testimony  was  wholly  unexpect- 
ed by  me  ;  and  I  can  not  refrain  from  gratefully  acknowledg- 
ing the  good  providence  of  God,  which,  without  any  agency 
of  mine,  has  shed  so  clear  a  light  on  the  charges  which  have 
been  extensively  propagated  to  my  prejudice  during  the  last 
eighteen  months. 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 
May  19th,  1845. 


"  I  will  only  add,  with  regard  to  the  several  topics  selected  by  the 
reviewer  for  animadversion,  that  I  have  not  knowingly  derived  either 
facts,  arguments,  or  opinions  from  Dr.  Robinson.  What  his  views 
were  on  these  points  I  had  never  an  intimation,  until  I  read  the  '  Re- 
searches' in  1842.  I  have  not  since  referred  to  that  able  and  learned 
work ;  but  I  had  not  supposed  that  it  laid  claim  to  original  discovery 
in  connection  with  these  topics,  except  in  the  case  of  the  ancient  arch. 
My  companions  in  the  Desert  and  Palestine,  I  think,  would  all  certify 
that  I  worked  hard  and  examined  every  thing  for  myself." 

The  article  from  which  the  above  extracts  were  taken  called  out  a 
rejoinder  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Robinson,  which  appeared  in  the  North 
American  Review  for  July,  1844,  and  was  also  reprinted  in  the  Bib- 
liotheca  Sacra  for  November.  It  was  only,  however,  to  the  single 
point  of  the  bridge,  which  connected  the  Temple  with  Mount  Zion,  that 
Dr.  Robinson  personally  made  exception,  with  what  propriety  the  test- 
imony of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Homes  and  Mr.  Catherwood  enables  us  t( 
judge. 

The  letters  written  in  the  course  of  this  controversy  were  published 
in  the  Commercial  Advertiser,  and  Christian  Advocate  and  Journal 
for  1844-'45. 


238  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

CXXIV.  TO  THE  REV.  S.  OLIN,  D.D.,  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  WESLEYAN 
UNIVERSITY. 

Bebek,  near  Constantinople,  March  14th,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Owing  to  some  mistake  or  oversight  in  the 
forwarding  of  our  North  American  Reviews,  I  did  not  receive 
any  of  the  numbers  of  1844  till  this  week,  and  was  therefore 
entirely  unacquainted  with  your  controversy  with  Dr.  Robin- 
son in  regard  to  discoveries  in  Jerusalem.  I  was  not  even 
aware  of  its  existence.  I  read  Dr.  Robinson's  note  in  the 
North  American  of  July,  1 844,  with  profound  surprise,  being 
confident  that  I  had  heard  Mr.  Homes  affirm  that  he  inform- 
ed Dr.  Robinson  of  the  existence  of  that  arch  as  a  remnant 
of  the  bridge  spoken  of  by  Josephus.  I  remembered  his  re- 
marks with  perfect  distinctness,  as  we  had  some  speculations 
in  regard  to  the  modus  operandi  of  Dr.  Robinson's  mind  in 
appropriating  the  discovery  so  entirely  to  himself.  And  the 
most  charitable  explanation  we  could  give  was,  that  he  was 
so  overjoyed  at  the  discovery  that  he  forgot  that  he  did  not 
make  it. 

I  immediately  addressed  a  note,  however,  to  Mr.  Homes, 
which,  with  the  reply,  I  forward  to  you.  I  sincerely  regret 
that  this  important  and  decisive  testimony  comes  so  late,  but 
it  is  never  too  late  to  establish  the  claims  of  truth  and  justice. 
It  is  inexplicable  that  in  this  controversy  Dr.  Robinson  never 
addressed  a  line  to  that  individual  to  whom  he  was  indebted 
for  his  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  the  arch,  while  he  has 
written  to  almost  every  other  individual  connected  with  the 
matter  in  debate.  It  is  very  singular,  too,  that  he  has  made 
no  acknowledgment  of  his  indebtedness  to  Mr.  Homes  for  such 
important  and  interesting  information,  while,  in  his  "  Re- 
searches," I  observe  he  introduces  his  name  in  connection 
with  more  trivial  matters.  But  I  am  content  with  having 
furnished  you  with  the  most  decisive  testimony,  not  only  that 
the  "  arch"  was  known  previous  to  Dr.  Robinson's  visit  to  Je- 
rusalem, but  that  it  was  known  in  its  relation  to  the  bridge 


LETTERS    FROM    CONSTANTINOPLE.          239 

spoken  of  by  Josephus,  and  that  he  received  all  the  informa- 
tion from  Mr.  Homes  which  you  or  any  other  traveler  could 
have  obtained  in  Jerusalem  two  years  afterward.  Dr.  Rob- 
inson should  have  been  the  first  to  call  for  Mr.  Homes's  test- 
imony ;  but,  as  he  has  failed  to  do  so,  I  hope  he  will  excuse 
me  for  having  volunteered  to  forward  it. 

Very  affectionately  yours,  C.  HAMLIN. 

P.S. — Should  you  wish  to  quote  any  of  the  above  remarks, 
you  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  do  so. 

Copy  of  a  Note  addressed  to  Mr.  Homes  by  Mr.  Hamlin. 

DEAR  BKOTHER, —  You  will  easily  recall,  I  presume,  the 
remarks  which  you  once  made  to  me  in  regard  to  Dr.  Robin- 
son's exclusive  claims  to  the  discovery  of  the  site  of  the  bridge 
connecting  the  Temple  with  Mount  Zion.  I  understood  you 
in  that  conversation  to  affirm,  that  you  yourself  informed  Dr. 
Robinson  of  the  existence  of  that  arch,  and  of  your  regarding 
it  as  a  remnant  of  the  bridge  spoken  of  by  Josephus ;  and 
that  it  was  in  consequence  of  this  information  given  to  him 
that  Dr.  Robinson  visited  the  spot,  and  made  his  great  dis- 
covery (?)  of  the  bridge. 

Please  to  send  me  a  note  by  the  bearer  of  this,  and  state, 
definitely,  did  you,  previous  to  meeting  Dr.  Robinson  in  Je- 
rusalem, regard  the  arch  in  question,  not  as  the  remnant  of 
a  bridge,  but  of  the  bridge  spoken  of  by  Josephus  ?  And  as 
such  did  you  mention  it  to  Dr.  Robinson  ?  The  reason  for 
making  this  request  is,  that  I  have  just  received  the  num- 
bers of  the  North  American  containing  the  controversy  be- 
tween Dr.  Olin  and  Dr.  Robinson  on  the  subject — a  contro- 
versy which,  I  imagine,  your  testimony  may  help  to  decide. 

My  affection  and  esteem  for  a  traduced  and  injured  friend, 
whom  I  know  to  be  one  of  the  best  and  noblest  of  men,  as 
well  as  my  regard  for  truth  and  justice,  impel  me,  with  your 
permission,  to  make  known  your  testimony  to  him. 

Yours,  affectionately,  C.  HAMLIN. 

Rev.  H.  A.  Homes. 


240  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

-  ; 

Reply  of  Mr.  Homes  to  Mr.  Hamliris  Note. 

Constantinople,  March  13th,  1845. 

DEAR  BROTHER, — Your  request  to  me,  to  repeat  in  writ- 
ing what  I  happened  to  mention  to  you  in  conversation  about 
the  arch  at  Jerusalem,  quite  startled  me  ;  for  I  would  not 
have  the  appearance  of  mingling  in  the  discoveries  of  a  dis- 
tinguished scholar,  as  though  I  had  any  such  share  in  any 
of  them  as  to  detract  from  the  honors  he  so  richly  merits. 
The  discovery  of  the  bridge  is  a  just  claim  of  Dr.  Robinson's, 
on  the  great  principle  laid  down  by  Paley  on  another  and 
most  important  topic  connected  with  the  scenes  of  Jerusa- 
lem— namely,  that  "he  only  discovers  who  proves."  And, 
therefore,  whoever  suggested  the  idea  to  him,  as  he  was  the 
one,  after  much  archaeological  research,  to  bring  before  the 
public  the  proofs  of  the  arch  being  part  of  the  bridge  men- 
tioned by  Josephus,  he  will  probably  always  retain  the  honor, 
without  militating  against  the  just  claims  of  others. 

However,  in  reference  to  the  points  in  dispute  between  Dr. 
Robinson  and  Dr.  Olin,  your  friend,  my  own  distinct  recollec- 
tions go  to  confirm  some  of  the  positions  assumed  by  the  lat- 
ter. What  these  points  of  discussion  are  I  need  not  state  ; 
but  I  will  simply  tell  my  story,  and  you  will  therein  find  a 
sufficient  answer  to  your  questions. 

In  1837,  while  residing  several  months  at  Jerusalem,  I 
discovered  one  day,  with  surprise,  in  the  obscure  part  of  the 
city  where  it  is  situated,  the  remains  of  the  arch,  and  fancied 
that  it  had  never  obtained,  so  far  as  I  knew,  the  notice  of 
any  traveler.  Either  before  I  saw  the  arch,  Mr.  Whiting 
called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  there  was  once  a  bridge 
connecting  the  Temple  with  Mount  Zion,  or  after  my  return  to 
his  house,  on  my  mentioning  the  arch,  he  said  that  he  and 
some  English  travelers,  one  of  whom  was  Mr.  Moore,  regard- 
ed this  as  the  bridge  mentioned  by  Josephus,  or  perhaps  we 
all  three  aided  each  other  in  the  suggestion.  However  that 


LETTERS  FROM  CONSTANTINOPLE.    241 

may  be,  the  essential  point  here  is,  that  during  the  whole  of 
the  year  following  I  was  dwelling  much  on  this  discovery  in 
my  own  mind,  as  of  a  remarkable  monument  of  ancient  Jeru- 
salem. One  day,  either  with  Mr.  Moore  or  Mr.  Whiting,  I 
went  to  re-examine  the  localities,  to  test  the  probability  of 
this  having  been  the  point  of  connection  of  the  Temple  with 
Mount  Zion.  If  Mr.  Whiting  should  bring  a  negative  testi- 
mony to  the  above,  I  see  not  how  it  could  make  me  deny  my 
own  positive  recollections  of  having  from  that  time  regarded 
this  as  the  bridge. 

In  the  spring  of  1838,  at  the  time  of  a  missionary  council 
in  Jerusalem,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Dr.  Robinson. 
We  were  all  anxious  to  show  Dr.  Robinson  all  the  noticeable 
places  in  Jerusalem  which  might  possibly  suggest  to  him 
facts  regarding  its  ancient  topography.  One  forenoon  I  ea- 
gerly told  Dr.  Robinson  of  the  existence  of  this  now  famous 
arch,  and,  from  his  surprise  and  awakened  interest,  it  was 
evident  he  had  never  heard  of  it  before.  And  before  he  ivent 
to  see  it,  I  remarked  to  him  on  the  probability  that  it  was 
the  bridge  mentioned  in  history  as  going  from  the  Temple 
to  Mount  Zion. 

It  was  agreed  that  I  should  go  and  show  it  to  him  that 
afternoon,  but,  unable  to  fulfill  my  promise,  I  remember  the 
difficulty  we  experienced  in  finding  any  one  of  our  party  who 
was  at  leisure,  and  who  knew  the  spot,  to  accompany  him. 
Ever  after  I  had  much  personal  satisfaction  in  reflecting  that 
I  had  been  the  instrument  in  introducing  Dr.  Robinson  to  a 
ruin  of  so  much  importance. 

There  are  few  events  of  my  life  of  which  I  have  more  dis- 
tinct recollections  than  of  those  recorded  in  the  preceding  two 
paragraphs,  because  of  the  vivid  impression  made  from  the 
first  day  of  my  seeing  the  arch.  Those  who  are  interested 
in  the  discussion  will  see  in  what  points  my  testimony  in- 
validates or  confirms  the  positions  of  Dr.  Robinson  or  Dr. 
Olin. 

TI,  L 


242  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


If  you  think  these  reminiscences  will  give  any  satisfaction 
to  your  friend,  you  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  send  them  to  him, 
for  I  have  only  recorded  them  for  the  sake  of  your  request. 
Very  cordially  yours,  H.  A.  HOMES. 

To  Rev.  C.  Hamlin,  Bebek. 

CXXV. 

Extract  from  a  letter  dated  Bebek,  April  2d,  1845,  from 
the  Rev.  Cyrus  Hamlin  to  the  Rev.  S.  Olin  : 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  forwarded  to  you  by  the  post  of 
March  17th  some  important  testimony  in  regard  to  your  con- 
troversy with  Dr.  Robinson ;  but  lest  it  should  by  some  acci- 
dent fail  of  reaching  you,  I  send  you  by  this  post  duplicates. 
I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  remarked,  in  the  accompanying 
note,  that  when  Mr.  Homes  first  mentioned  to  me  the  assist- 
ance which  he  had  rendered  to  Dr.  Robinson  in  Jerusalem, 
Dr.  Robinson  had  not  yet  published  his  "  Researches."  After 
the  publication  of  his  work,  Mr.  Homes  was,  of  course,  a  little 
surprised  at  the  introduction  of  his  name  in  connection  with 
unimportant  particulars,  and  its  entire  omission  in  connection 
with  this  arch,  the  discovery  of  which  Mr.  Homes  regarded 
as  the  most  important  aid  which  Dr.  Robinson  received  in 
Jerusalem. 

The  note  of  Mr.  Homes  which  I  forwarded  to  you,  and  a 
duplicate  copy  of  which  is  here  inclosed,  was  written  entirely 
from  recollection.  Since  then  Mr.  Homes  has  shown  me  the 
journal  of  his  residence  in  Syria,  and  under  date  of  May, 
1837,  among  a  number  of  things  noted  as  worthy  of  special 
examination,  is  this  brief  minute  :  "  THE  BRIDGE  CROSSING 
PROM  MOUNT  ZION  TO  MOUNT  MORIAH."  The  entry  was 
made  at  the  time  when  he  first  began  to  regard  the  arch  as 
a  remnant  of  that  bridge,  and  that  was  nearly  one  year  pre- 
vious to  Dr.  Robinson's  visit  to  Jerusalem.  He  afterward 
revisited  it  repeatedly,  sometimes  in  connection  with  travel- 
ers ;  and  when  Dr.  Robinson  arrived  in  Jerusalem  he  brought 


LETTER  FROM  MR.  GATHER  WOOD.    243 

it  to  his  notice  as  a  remnant  of  the  bridge  spoken  of  by  Jose- 
phus. 

CXXVI.  TO  THE  REV.  S.  OLIN,  D.D. 

New  York,  May,  1845. 

MY  DEAR.  SIR, — I  have  received  your  note  on  the  subject 
of  the  remains  of  the  ancient  bridge  in  Jerusalem,  and  call- 
ing my  attention  to  your  reply  to  some  strictures  in  the  North 
American  Review,  in  which  you  say  that  I  had  mentioned 
to  you  in  conversation  that  I  saw  this  monument  during  my 
visit  to  Jerusalem,  and  regarded  it  as  the  arch  of  an  ancient 
bridge,  as  did  other  persons  with  whom  I  conversed  on  the 
subject.  You  ask  me  whether  this  statement  corresponds 
with  what  I  said  to  you  on  this  subject.  I  answer  that  it 
does  in  all  respects. 

Yours,  faithfully,  F.  CATHER.WOOD. 

cxxvii.  TO  MR.  — . 

Middletown,  May  27,  1845. 

You  will  hardly  feel  disappointed  on  learning  that  I  have 
been  let  into  the  important  secret  which  you  have  so  recently 
revealed  to  your  family.  At  least,  you  are  likely  very  soon 
to  be  in  the  way  of  learning,  that  what  a  man's  wife  knows 
will  probably  be  communicated,  with  due  injunctions  of  se- 
crecy or  of  discretion  in  the  using,  to  the  faithful  partner,  not 
of  her  life  only  and  her  interests,  but  of  nearly  all  things, 
small  and  great,  that  happen  to  pass  through  her  head  or  to 
find  a  lodgment  in  her  heart.  At  any  rate,  I  hope  better 
things  of  your  chosen  friend  and  of  you,  than  to  believe  either 
that  she  will  be  so  prudent  a  wife  as  to  exclude  you  from  the 
fullest  participation  in  all  that  makes  or  mars  her  woe  or 
weal,  or  that  you  will  be  a  husband  of  such  dignity  as  can 
not  listen  reverently  to  pretty  much  every  thing  that  comes 
under  the  comprehensive  genus  of  conjugal  small-talk.  So, 
then,  without  intending  any  such  thing  in  the  beginning  of 


244  LIFE     AXD     LKTTERS. 


this  sentence,  I  have  fairly  been  surprised  into  announcing  a 
matrimonial  maxim  for  your  future  use. 

I  intended  to  congratulate  you  on  the  happy  prospect 
which  has  opened  before  you,  and  to  express  my  satisfaction 
at  your  engagement.  I  can  not  doubt  that  you  have  de- 
voted yourself  to  a  worthy  object.  Your  family,  I  see,  are 
well  pleased  with  your  choice,  and  mother  and  sisters  are  full 
likely  to  exercise  a  watchful  supervision  over  such  a  move- 
ment. It  was  a  little  odd  that  I  did  not  become  acquainted 
with  one  to  be  brought  into  so  near  a  relation  to  us  when  I 
was  introduced  to  her  sister,  at  your  father's.  I  liked  the  sis- 
ter very  well.  I  doubt  not  that  your  friend  is  equally  wor- 
thy of  admiration,  since  you  go  the  length  of  practically  pro- 
nouncing her  more  so.  I  need  not  say  to  you  that  my  best, 
most  affectionate  wishes,  and  my  fervent  prayers,  will  attend 
your  entrance  on  this  new  and  interesting  relation. 

You  are  now,  in  a  very  important  sense,  to  begin  life  anew. 
You  are  about  to  come  under  the  influence  of  stronger  mo- 
tives and  higher  responsibilities  than  are  within  the  sphere 
of  an  unmarried  man.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility of  taking  care  of  another's  welfare,  another's  hap- 
piness, another's  soul ;  and  all  of  this,  in  a  very  high  sense, 
you  propose  to  do.  Need  I  suggest  to  a  thoughtful  mind  like 
yours,  that,  in  addition  to  virtuous  principles,  and  high  pur- 
poses, and  pure  morals,  which  "I  am  sure  you  already  possess, 
you  will  need  the  aid  of  religion  in  your  new  sphere  ?  Your 
entrance  on  married  life  will  constitute  an  era  in  your  his- 
tory, and  a  most  favorable  occasion  for  revising  the  past,  and 
adopting  all  improvements  that  may  be  of  use  in  the  future. 
Let  me  beg  of  you  to  seek,  at  such  a  time,  the  helps  and  sup- 
ports to  be  had  from  above.  Let  religion  enter  into  all  your 
new  plans  of  life.  Set  up  an  altar  for  prayer  at  once,  and 
let  all  the  pleasures  of  domestic  life  be  hallowed  by  the  rec- 
ognition of  God  your  Savior.  I  am  sure  your  new  prospects 
will  minister  additional  impulses  to  the  labors  and  studies  of 


DIVISION     OF     THE     CHURCH.  245 

your  profession.  It  is,  I  think,  just  what  you  need  in  order 
to  insure  success.  The  first  years  of  professional  life  are  com- 
monly very  trying  to  one's  patience,  and  I  think  him  fortu- 
nate who  has  the  strongest  motives  to  endure  arid  to  labor. 
You  will  henceforth  have  a  new  and  powerful  incentive  to 
follow  resolutely  the  orderly  and  industrious  habits  with 
which  you  have  begun  your  career,  and  to  become  a  thor- 
ough learned  lawyer,  to  which  you  no  doubt  aspire. 

Will  you  make  my  most  respectful  affectionate  salutations 

to  Miss ?     Shall  we  not  see  you  here  ?  and  will  she 

not,  somehow,  be  of  Margaret's  party  or  of  yours  ? 

CXXVIII.  TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  ADVOCATE  AND 
JOURNAL. 

July  8th,  1845. 

Once  only,  during  the  year  of  distress  and  agitation  which 
has  elapsed  since  the  adjournment  of  the  General  Confer- 
ence, have  I  ventured  to  obtrude  my  opinions  in  regard  to 
the  great  controversy  upon  the  readers  of  the  Christian  Ad- 
vocate and  Journal.  I  have  felt  inclined  to  speak — some- 
times almost  impelled — but  have  been  deterred  hitherto,  less 
by  any  distrust  in  my  own  conclusions  on  the  questions  at 
issue,  than  from  a  despair  of  being  heard,  when  so  many 
warm  passions  were  in  active  play,  and  so  many  wiser  and 
better  men  had  preoccupied  the  public  ear.  The  session  of 
the  Louisville  Convention  has  brought  on  a  new  crisis,  in 
view  of  which  I  once  more  feel  inclined  to  express  my  opin- 
ions. If  they  shall  not  fully  coincide  with  yours,  the  result 
of  reflection  so  much  more  mature,  and  of  experience  so  much 
more  ample,  I  have  yet  the  fullest  confidence  that  you  will 
favor  free  discussion,  and  will  readily,  and  even  gladly,  open 
your  columns  to  the  humblest  son  of  the  Church,  of  whose 
fidelity  to  its  interests  you  may  have  no  reason  to  entertain 
doubts.  I  would  inquire,  what  is  the  present  duty  of  the 
Church  which  has  rent  it  in  twain  ?  Without  stopping  to 
controvert  the  opinions  of  others,  already  expressed,  I  an- 


246  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

nounce  it  as  my  most  deliberate,  prayerful  conviction  that 
this  controversy  should  cease,  now  that  it  no  longer  holds  out 
the  most  distant  promise  of  good  to  either  party.  Nobody 
expects  to  prevent  the  disruption  of  our  connectional  ties. 
We  are  already  divided,  for  evil  or  for  good,  which  we  must 
wait  for  the  future  to  disclose.  The  Southern  Conferences 
have  proclaimed  their  independence,  and  set  up  a  distinct 
organization.  The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  lacks 
only  a  formal  recognition  by  the  constituents  of  the  Louis- 
ville Convention,  if,  indeed,  it  lacks  any  thing,  to  the  com- 
pleteness of  its  arrangements  for  separate,  independent  oper- 
ations. There  is  no  power  under  Heaven  competent  to  ar- 
rest this  great  movement ;  and  if  there  were,  it  would  still 
be  a  question  whether  it  is  wise  to  struggle  any  longer  against 
tendencies  which,  if  they  are  not  strictly  irresistible,  are 
plainly  incompatible  with  kindly,  fraternal  co-operation. 
Time  may  possibly  diminish  or  remove  these  obstacles  to 
harmony ;  but  controversy,  which  has  wholly  failed  to  pro- 
vent  this  distressing  crisis,  can  only  aggravate  its  insuperable 
difficulties.  Peace,  now  that  union  is  confessedly  out  of  the 
question,  is  the  great  want  of  the  Church. 

History  will  not  fail  to  do  justice  to  both  North  and  South, 
and  its  awards  may,  perhaps,  come  soon  enough  for  either 
party  ;  but  the  time  has  already  arrived  when,  for  all  prac- 
tical purposes,  we  have  less  to  do  with  the  past  than  with 
the  present  and  the  future.  All  the  precious  interests  of  the 
Church  and  of  our  common  Christianity  imperatively  de- 
mand that  our  contentions  shall  now  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
public  mind  be  allowed,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  revert  to  its 
natural  state  of  repose.  This,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is  an  indis- 
pensable prerequisite  to  the  return  of  prosperity.  God  sel- 
dom or  never  pours  forth  his  Spirit  upon  a  people  agitated 
with  controversy  and  passion.  These,  continued  too  long, 
impress  their  character  upon  a  people,  and  sadly  pervert  the 
general  conscience  and  heart  of  the  Church.  We  must,  then, 


EVILS     OF     CONTROVERSY.  247 

be  content  to  wait,  not  merely  for  the  healing  influences  of 
time  and  grace,  but  for  the  rising  up  of  another  generation, 
before  the  preaching  of  the  word,  and  the  other  benignant 
ministries  of  the  Gospel,  can  be  restored  to  their  wonted  honor 
and  efficiency.  We  may  not  even  hope  that  much  of  the  evil 
already  done  to  souls  by  the  pending  bitter  contest  is  not  ir- 
retrievable. This  fiery  ordeal  must  needs  have  proved  dan- 
gerous, and  even  ruinous,  to  unstable,  ill-balanced  minds,  and 
to  immature  piety,  when  so  many  eminent,  deeply-experienced 
ministers  have  been  betrayed  into  indiscretions  and  extrava- 
gances so  unworthy  of  their  holy  calling. 

Yet  may  we  humbly  rely  on  the  Divine  blessing,  for  bring- 
ing back  at  least  a  measure  of  the  fraternal  affection  and 
sympathy  which  has  been  lost.  If  good  men,  of  all  parties, 
will  practice  and  inculcate  forbearance  and  charity — if  the 
conductors  of  the  press,  satisfied  with  having  done  their  ut- 
most to  prevent  the  evils  that  have  come  upon  us,  shall  now 
devote  the  energies  intrusted  to  their  direction  to  the  mitiga- 
tion of  evils  no  longer  avoidable — if  those  who  have  suffered 
wrong  will  be  content  to  endure  it  for  Christ's  sake,  to  im- 
pose silence  on  themselves,  even  under  grievous  provocation 
and  injustice,  waiting  for  time  and  God  to  mollify  or  expose 
their  trad'ucers,  and  to  justify  their  conduct  and  motives — we 
may  even  hope  that  so  brief  a  period  as  a  single  year,  which 
has  been  able  to  work  such  miracles  of  mischief,  may  bring 
about  the  most  benignant  changes,  and  that  the  voice  of 
kindly  greeting  and  brotherly  love  may  begin  to  be  heard 
even  along  the  doubtful  line  of  demarkation  toward  which  so 
many  strained  eyes  are  now  directed  with  eager,  anxious 
hopes  and  fears.  After  these  halcyon  days  of  peace  shall 
have  been  invited  to  return,  and  not  till  then,  shall  we  be 
able  to  form  an  intelligent,  impartial  judgment  upon  the 
events  of  the  past  year.  We  shall  then  have  opportunity  to 
observe  the  working  of  the  new  organization.  All  may  then 
become  satisfied  on  a  point,  now  by  many  good  men  held  to 


248  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

be  doubtful,  whether  the  Southern  organization  will  prove 
effective  for  accomplishing  the  great  objects  of  a  Christian 
Church — whether  it  actually  retains  all  of  the  essential  ele- 
ments and  characteristics  of  that  form  of  Christianity  called 
Methodism.  Our  brethren  claim  for  it  that  it  does  retain 
them,  and  is  intended  to  do  so.  It  is  but  fair  to  give  them 
an  opportunity  to  test  their  plans  and  to  prove  their  sincerity, 
before  we  condemn.  They  assure  us  that  the  change  will  be 
highly  favorable  to  the  unfortunate  class  whose  anomalous 
relations  to  our  institutions  have  been  the  source  of  all  our 
difficulties.  Time  will  make  its  revelations  on  this  subject ; 
and  if  it  shall  show  more  numerous  and  more  successful  mis- 
sions among  the  slaves,  and  more  decided  and  comprehensive 
efforts  to  extend  to  their  condition  all  the  alleviations  which 
the  mission  of  the  Gospel  has  to  proffer,  then  our  bitter  re- 
grets for  the  disruption  of  ties  so  dear  and  so  sacred  may  pos- 
sibly be  succeeded  by  mutual  congratulations,  and  by  thanks- 
givings to  God,  who  can  make  the  wrath  of  man  to  praise 
Him.  We  may  not  be  so  sanguine,  perhaps,  as  to  anticipate 
such  good  results  from  events  so  unpromising,  but  we  are  at 
least  under  all  Christian  obligation  not  to  frustrate  and  pre- 
vent them. 

Who  will  not  also  anticipate  from  the  progress  of  events, 
under  the  favoring  auspices  of  grace  and  peace,  more  chari- 
table opinions  than  now  prevail  in  regard  to  the  uprightness 
of  intention,  as  well  as  to  the  wisdom  of  those  who  have  been 
chief  actors  in  this  season  of  distress  and  perplexity  ?  I  con- 
fidently expect  a  speedy  and  great  modification  of  the  senti- 
ments which  now  prevail,  so  far,  at  least,  as  intelligent  and 
pious  men  are  concerned.  I  have  always  believed  that  both 
parties  in  the  General  Conference  were  shut  up  to  their 
course  by  a  necessity  which  had  nearly  the  power  of  a  law, 
and  that,  in  the  end,  this  must  come  to  be  the  verdict  of  his- 
tory. Much  of  what  has  been  done  is  deplorable  enough,  and 
can  never  be  justified.  Extenuation  there  may  be,  but  noth- 


0 

DESIRES     FOR     PEACE.  249 

ing  more  of  such  revilings  and  personalities  as  all  must  admit 
have  disgraced  this  controversy.  Still,  it  should  be  remember- 
ed that  the  South,  in  justifying  its  own  course,  not  unnatural- 
ly fell  into  a  bitter  conflict  with  the  ecclesiastical  body,  under 
whose  provisions  it  professed  to  act ;  while  the  North,  in  jus- 
tifying the  measures  of  the  majority,  almost  unavoidably  as- 
sumed a  hostile  attitude  toward  those  who  impugned  it. 
Both  parties  were  thus  drawn  away  from  the  simple  issue 
proposed  in  the  General  Conference  resolutions.  This  has 
been  the  great  error.  It  was  perhaps  an  unavoidable  error. 
Now  that  the  issue  provided  for  in  that  act  has  been  reached 
— whether  wisely  or  unwisely  is  no  longer  a  matter  of  any 
practical  moment  —  it  seems  to  me  to  be  our  first  duty  to 
make  the  best  of  our  altered  circumstances,  to  sec  how  far 
we  can  still  agree  to  sympathize  with  and  love  one  another. 

It  is  of  little  public  importance  what  course  an  humble 
individual  may  choose  to  adopt  in  the  premises  ;  but  it  is  of 
gome,  at  least,  to  my  own  sense  of  duty,  to  declare  that  I  for 
one  shall  feel  bound  to  further,  as  far  as  in  me  lies,  the  holy 
ends  of  peace  and  quietness.  I  think  I  voted  right  in  the 
General  Conference.  I  could  not  act  otherwise  on  a  similar 
occasion.  But  I  certainly  expected  the  result  which  has  fol- 
lowed, and  I  do  not  complain  of  it ;  however,  I  must  regret 
some  of  the  accompaniments  of  the  movement. 

As  to  the  important  pecuniary  interests  that  still  remain 
to  be  adjusted  between  the  North  and  South,  I  can  not  be- 
lieve that  much  difficulty  will  arise  from  them  when  ap- 
proached in  the  spirit  of  moderation  and  mutual  forbearance, 
which  I  so  earnestly  invoke.  Whatever  of  real  piety  shall 
remain  in  either  division  of  the  Church  after  the  storm  sub- 
sides will  be  engaged  on  the  side  of  justice,  and  mere  ques- 
tions of  property  and  right  are  seldom  so  obscure  as  to  give 
rise  to  invincible  differences  of  opinion  among  honest,  enlight- 
ened men. 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 

L2 


9 
250  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


CXXIX.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

July  25th,  1845. 

I  received  your  welcome  letter  yesterday.  It  contained 
information  that  interested  me  a  good  deal — as,  indeed,  any 
thing  connected  with  your  plans  and  welfare  always  does. 
So,  then,  you  are  once  more  a  keeper  of  sheep,  like  Jacob  and 
the  other  patriarchs — you  are  fairly  in  the  wool-market.  You 
sleep  better  or  worse  as  the  prices  current  in  the  corner  of  the 
newspaper  announce  that  Saxon  has  risen  or  fallen  a  cent  a 
pound,  according  to  the  scale  for  pelts  or  pulled  wool.  You 
are,  and  were  always,  a  dear  lover  of  kine,  and  of  the  lanig- 
erous  race.  So  was  our  honored  father  before  you  ;  and  I 
can  not  regret  that  you  are  once  more  in  the  way  of  grati- 
fying this  inborn  taste.  I  must  submit  to  endure  the  anxi- 
eties, long  since  forgotten,  which  I  used  to  feel  about  tariffs, 
inspections,  Smyrna  wool,  &c.,  so  long  as  you  were  in  the 
market.  May  all  kindly  constellations  hover  over  Mr.  Polk 
and  Secretary  Walker,  averting  their  thoughts  from  all  spec- 
ulations about  free  trade.  May  your  wethers  wax  fat,  and 
your  ewes  bring  twins  or  triplets.  May  wool  be  dear  and 
money  plenty.  I  only  hope  that  you  will  not  involve  your- 
self with  land  as  well  as  stock.  The  precariousness  of  your 
health  would,  I  think,  render  this  unadvisable  as  well  as 
dangerous.  And,  moreover,  I  stand  ready  to  sell  or  rent 
you  my  farm  in  Poultney  on  the  most  reasonable  terms.  In 
the  mean  time,  I  hope  you  will  not  burden  yourself  with 
too  many  cares.  Observe  watchfully  the  influence  of  your 
situation  upon  your  health,  and  you  will  be  able  to  choose 
the  course  best  adapted,  on  the  whole,  to  your  circum- 
stances  

You  perceive  by  the  papers  that  I  am  still  an  itinerant 
president.  So  I  must  be  for  some  time  to  come,  at  least,  if 
God  permit.  I  hope  for  good  success  in  my  most  difficult 
enterprise.  I  mean  to  be  faithful  in  this  work,  to  which  I 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  251 

am  in  a.  sense  devoted.     Our  prospects  brighten.     I  think 
we  must  succeed 

» 

CXXX.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

Rhinebeck,  Aug.  21st,  1845. 

I  am  just  now  under  the  pressure  of  a  very  grievous  disap- 
pointment, of  which  almost  the  only  practicable  alleviation  is 
in  your  power.  I  left  home  on  Friday  after  Commencement, 
visited  my  old  friend,  brother  Landon,  at  Sag  Harbour,  preach- 
ed on  Sunday  at  Sag  Harbour,  on  Tuesday  at  the  dedication 
of  a  church  in  Southampton,  and  on  Wednesday  left  the  rail- 
road at  Farmingdale,  at  3  P.M.,  and  returned  at  five,  having 
visited  the  camp-ground,  dined,  and  preached  in  the  interim. 

I  arrived  here  a  week  since,  expecting  to  proceed  to  Buf- 
falo, to  the  Genesee  Conference,  last  Monday,  but  on  that  day, 
as  ever  since,  I  was  confined  to  my  bed  with  a  severe  cold, 
with  such  accompaniments  of  vertigo,  fever,  &c.,  as  in  my 
case  usually  magnify  this  slight  visitation  into  a  regular,  but 
not  dangerous  illness.  This  was  the  last  day  of  departure 
which  would  allow  me  to  reach  Buffalo  in  time  for  the  Con- 
ference, so  the  expedition  is  given  over.  I  suppose  I  shall  be 
about  as  usual  in  two  or  three  days,  and  I  expect  to  remain 
here  during  this  and  next  week.  "Will  not  this  protracted 
stay  allow  you  to  visit  me  here  ?  I  need  not  say  how  much 
pleasure  such  a  plan  would  afford  me.  Miss  Garrettson 
heartily  joins  me  in  the  invitation.  I  think  you  will  enjoy  a 
few  days  at  this  lovely  place,  with  its  noble  view,  and  its 
spreading  trees,  its  cheerfulness,  and  its  peaceful  calm. 

CXXXI.  JOURNAL  LETTERS  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

New  York,  October  28th,  1845. 

I  arrived  here  yesterday  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  much 
refreshed  and  invigorated  by  the  balmy  gales,  which  were  of 
the  temperature  of  August  rather  than  of  October.  My  cour- 
age rose  with  my  strength.  The  voyage  to  the  South  came 


252  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

to  seem  the  veriest  trifle  instead  of  a  martyrdom,  as  I  had  re- 
garded it  the  night  before.  I  got  to  New  York  very  com- 
fortably, though  weary  enough 

I  took  passage  yesterday,  and  am  to  sail  to-morrow  in  the 
ship  Celia  for  Savannah,  a  pretty  good  ship.  No  vessel  goes 
to  Charleston  earlier  than  Monday.  I  may  be  a  week  on  the 
way  if  the  weather  remain  good 

You  must  allow  from  three  to  four  weeks  for  my  tour.  I 
have  much  confidence  that  it  will  do  me  good.  It  occurred 
to  me  yesterday  to  think  whether  it  is  possible  for  me,  so  late 
in  life,  to  become  captain  of  a  steamer — a  kind  of  life  well 
adapted  to  the  state  and  wants  of  my  nerves. 

May  our  ever  blessed  Savior  be  very  precious 
and  very  gracious  to  you.  He  has  done  glorious  things  for 
us,  and  He  will  not  forsake  us.  It  is  my  happiness  to  commit 
to  Him  the  two  interests  dearer  to  me  than  all  others — my 
wife  and  the  university.  May  He  fill  you  with  the  Spirit, 
establish  your  soul  in  faith  and  love,  and  bring  us  together  in 
peace  and  health. 

cxxxn. 

Ship  Celia,  Nov.  1st,  1845. 

I  wrote  to  you  on  Wednesday  that  I  was  to  embark  for 
Savannah  the  next  morning.  As  usual,  another  day  was 
given  to  delay,  and  we  went  on  board  on  Friday,  10  A.M. 
The  weather  was  not  very  promising.  A  steam-boat  took  us 
from  the  wharf  and  dropped  us  near  Governor's  Island. 
Thence  to  the  vicinity  of  Staten  Island  we  succeeded  in  sail- 
ing in  two  hours,  but  the  wind  being  dead  ahead,  the  pros- 
pect for  rain  very  threatening,  we  put  about  and  anchored 
between  Bedloe's  Island  and  Jersey  City.  Here  we  dined, 
and,  after  some  hesitation,  I  landed,  and  spent  the  night  at 
your  father's  very  pleasantly.  I  was  again  on  board  at  nine 
this  morning,  the  wind  still  ahead,  and  the  prospect  still  very 
unfavorable  for  getting  to  sea.  After  various  tacks  and  dem- 


JOURNAL     LETTER.  253 

onstrations,  we  are  now  (2  P.M.)  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
short  of  Fort  Hamilton,  still  somewhat  doubtful  whether  we 
get  through  the  Narrows,  and  sure  of  being  well  tossed,  and 
making  no  headway,  if  we  do,  as  the  wind,  so  far  as  I  can 
judge,  is  directly  in  our  faces.  We  may  get  off,  however, 
and  as  the  pilot  is  to  carry  this  letter  to  town,  you  will  un- 
derstand that  we  are  already  beyond  the  Hook  when  you  re- 
ceive it.  So  much  for  the  navigation,  which  so  far  has  been 
decidedly  tardy. 

The  Celia,  which  performs  as  above,  was  built  in  other 
days,  when  more  timber  and  less  paint  were  used  as  an  at- 
traction for  passengers.  I  doubt  not  she  is  perfectly  safe, 
and  the  captain  says  a  fair  sailer.  This  ought  to  be  said  in 
her  favor,  as  nothing  else  can.  She  is  very,  very  dirty,  and 
badly  furnished.  She  has  no  seats,  but  a  couple  of  long 
chests  upon  deck,  and  not  chairs  enough  to  seat  thirteen  per- 
sons, our  quota  of  passengers  at  the  dinner-table.  With 
plenty  of  substantial  beef,  fresh  and  salt,  potatoes,  cabbage, 
turnips,  &c.,  we  have,  as  yet,  had  no  showing  of  delicacies  on 
the  table.  One  thing,  however,  is  about  as  good  as  another 
when  one  is  sea-sick,  which,  I  suppose,  we  all  have  a  good 
chance  to  be  by  to-morrow  at  furthest.  You  see  there  is 
hope  in  our  situation,  and  a  species  of  comfort  which  a  mere 
landsman  has  no  part  in. 

It  is,  indeed,  of  little  consequence  whether  an  invalid  eats 
or  not  at  sea.  It  is,  however,  of  no  little  importance  that  he 
has  good  company,  agreeable,  sociable  people  to  look  at  and 
talk  with  when  his  stomach  is  a  little  composed,  or,  being 
hungry,  he  has  little  or  nothing  to  eat.  I  have  taken  some 
observations — such  as  circumstances  have  allowed,  and  can 
speak  rather  positively  in  regard  to  my  co-voyageurs.  There 
are  three  ladies  in  the  cabin,  and  two  female  children.  Of 
two  of  the  ladies  I  despaired  on  sight,  and  wrote  them  down 
as  utterly  hopeless  and  impracticable.  Yet  one  of  them  has 
large  black  eyes,  and  a  very  small  husband,  named  Mr.  Smith. 


254  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

The  other,  I  believe,  is  just  now  reading  aloud  in  the  cabin. 
It  is  painful  the  way  she  does  hard  words.  English  no  less 
than  French,  of  which  there  seems  to  be  a  sprinkling  in  her 
book.  I  must  as  yet  speak  with  some  caution  of  the  third 
fair  one,  who  wears  a  veil,  is  of  tolerably  graceful  carriage, 
and  abides  the  phrenological  tests  under  which  her  compeers 
rather  fail.  I  gave  her  something  near  me  at  dinner,  and 
design  to  speak  to  her  to-morrow,  if  I  do  not  get  sick  or  alter 
my  mind.  We  have  nine  men  with  us — not  hopeful  very, 
but  well  enough,  I  suppose,  for  the  use  they  have  for  them- 
selves. Upon  the  whole,  I  never  sailed  with  so  select  a  party, 
and  you  must  not  fear  that  I  shall  overtalk,  nor,  I  think,  over- 
eat. I  have  also  fifteen  bottles  of  Congress  Water  on  board, 
fruit  of  my  forethought  and  experience. 

So  you  see  every  thing  is  favorable  in  its  way — not  too 
much  luxury,  nor  too  good  company — a  dirty  ship,  a  short 
berth,  five  feet  four  about,  a  good  prospect  for  a  long  voyage, 
which  involves  the  idea  of  plenty  of  sea  air,  which  is  what 
I  came  for.  Then  comes  the  proverb  about  a  bad  beginning 
and  a  good  ending.  I  am  in  good  spirits,  as  you  will  sup- 
pose, though  a  little  annoyed  at  having  the  stereotyped  joke 
about  Jonah  slantingly  directed  to  me. 

CXXXIII. 

At  sea,  Thursday,  Nov.  6th,  1845 

Presuming,  from  something  you  said  on  the  subject,  that 
you  will  attach  especial  value  to  what  may  be  written  at 
sea,  I  try  to  scribble  a  few  lines.  My  mood  is  any  thing  but 
witty  or  playful ;  but  it  is  as  affectionate  as  possible,  which 

is,  I  know,  far  better  in  your  estimation It  was 

Saturday  night  before  we  had  passed  out  by  the  light.  It 
had  already  begun  to  rain,  and  we  anchored  some  three  or 
four  miles  further  out — a  miserable  plight  to  be  in  on  a  stormy 
night.  It  rained  all  day  Sunday,  and  was  excessively  rough. 
I  was  shut  up  in  my  berth  excessively  sick,  as  were  nearly 


A     ROUGH     SEA VARIETY     OF     CHARACTER.    255 

all  the  passengers.  The  ensuing  night  was  dismal.  Our 
sails  were  reefed,  and  the  ship  tossed  and  rolled  in  a  way 
that  is  wholly  indescribable  to  one  uninitiated.  There  was 
not  the  least  danger,  but  great  discomfort.  Monday  was 
rough,  so  was  Tuesday,  and  our  progress  was  slow.  Yester- 
day was  also  pretty  rough,  though  the  weather  has  been  fine 
since  Monday.  The  wind  was  adverse,  and  it  is  dead  ahead 
to-day.  We  should  have  been  in  Savannah  by  this  time, 
but  we  lack  some  sixty  miles  of  half-way,  being  off  Carri- 
tuck  Inlet,  North  Carolina.  The  shore  is  eight  or  ten  miles 
off,  and  in  plain  sight,  the  border  being  white  sand,  and  the 
background  a  dark,  flat  region.  We  are  sailing  to  and  fro 
over  a  perfectly  smooth  sea,  waiting  for  a  change  of  wind, 
which  must  pass  round  to  the  northward  in  order  to  enable 
us  to  double  Cape  Hatteras.  Here  for  the  present — perhaps 
for  some  days — we  must  wait,  as  all  progress  is  impossible. 
We  shall  hardly  see  the  end  of  our  voyage  this  week,  even 
with  a  fair  wind,  of  which  there  are  no  signs.  Every  body 
is  impatient.  Even  I  partake  slightly  of  the  prevailing  anx- 
iety to  reach  our  port,  though  sailing  is  just  what  I  want,  and 
a  long  voyage  preferable  to  a  short  one.  The  love  of  the  land 
becomes  a  passion  with  people  at  sea,  and  in  this,  as  in  other 
strong  prevalent  sentiments,  it  is  not  easy  to  avoid  a  partici- 
pation, though  your  reason  and  interest  may  be  opposed. 
Our  captain  is  very  obliging,  and  we  do  as  well  as  pretty 
coarse  accommodations  will  allow.  It  is  no  slight  advantage 
to  have  so  few  passengers,  as  attendance  is  better,  and  you 
have  room  enough.  The  captain  is  pious,  which  keeps  all 
right  among  the  men,  except  that  the  first  mate  indulges  in 
profanity  now  and  then. 

As  to  company,  a  fastidious,  scholarly  man  would  fare  but 
poorly  ;  but  I  get  on  very  well.  There  is  a  good  variety  of 
character  and  attainment  to  learn,  from  and  speculate  on. 
The  lady  of  whom  I  spoke  with  some  hope  has  been  ill,  and 
has  not  shown  her  face  until  just  now  ;  I  believe  she  is  going 


256  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

on  deck  for  the  first  time.  I  overrated  her,  taken,  as  1  am  wont, 
by  good  eyes  and  upper  head.  I  was  right  with  regard  to 
the  others.  In  the  male  line  we  do  better.  One  man,  with 
the  look  and  air  of  a  gentleman,  but  the  language  of  a  clown, 
tells  his  fortunes  freely,  which  are  that,  beginning  as  a  tin 
peddler,  he  became  a  merchant  in  Georgia,  got  rich,  and  now 
lives  in  Western  New  York  in  otium  cum,  dignitate.  He 
had  an  ugly  cough,  and  goes  South  to  do  it  battle.  He  is  an 
oracle  in  all  matters  of  real  life  or  business.  A  better  than 
he  is  a  man  of  Florida,  whither  he  went  from  New  York,  a 
ship  carpenter,  a  calling  to  which  he  rose  from  tanner's  ap- 
prentice. Between  scheming,  marrying,  and  hard  work,  he 
has  become  rich,  and  lives  on  a  domain  of  pine  woods  and 
hammocks  of  fifteen  thousand  acres.  He  was  captain  of  a 
company  of  Rangers  in  the  Florida  war,  and  has  seen  more 
Indians  than  I  should  like  to  have  done,  unless,  indeed,  he 
stretches  the  real  history  a  little,  which  I  incline  to  think. 
He  is  the  cleverest  man  on  board,  and  I  should  like  him  bet- 
ter but  for  an  ill-cured  habit  he  has  of  semi-swearing.  He 
has  a  way  of  abbreviating  his  oaths,  so  as  to  evade  criticism, 
and,  perhaps,  to  deceive  his  own  conscience.  I  mean  to  re- 
prove him  when  I  have  a  good  opportunity.  Then  we  have 
two  young  adventurous  millwrights  from  Maine,  who  mean 
to  get  money  by  showing  the  Georgians  some  improved  meth- 
od of  grinding  hominy.  Mr.  C has  designs,  I  guess,  of 

raising  the  wind  by  taking  daguerreotypes,  though  he  keeps 
rather  dark  for  a  man  of  his  genius.  Somewhere  on  the  line 
between  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut  had  the  honor  of  his 
birth.  I  learn  that  he  has  above  nine  thousand  loco-foco 
matches  in  his  trunk,  which  emit  a  strong  sulphurous  odor, 

and  cost  only  forty-five  cents  !     Mr.  M ,  who  is  an  old 

and  very  lean  tall  man,  has  the  phthisic,  and  goes  to  Flori- 
da to  breathe  easier  this  winter.  He  believes  that  all  things 
come  to  pass  according  to  predestination,  so  that  good  people 
and  bad  are  all  one  on  the  s«ore  of  merit.  I  avoid  discuss- 


MOONLIGHT     EVENINGS.  257 

ing  with  him  topics  that  might  bring  me  foul  of  this  snag. 
Another  peculiarity,  not  now  first  seen  in  company  with  this 

creed,  is  a  strong  love  of  fire.     Mr.  M keeps  the  cahin 

heated  all  day  up  ahove  fever  heat,  and  hovers  over  the  stove 
at  that.  He  is  my  evil  genius  in  this  matter.  Of  Mr.  Smith 
I  only  know  he  is  very,  very  short,  and  has  a  wife  and  little 

daughter  on  board,  who  are  ill.     Mr.  S says  but  little, 

as  the  Smiths  are  wont,  and  works  in  a  foundery  in  Savannah. 
He  wears  a  gray  coat  and  profuse  sandy  whiskers.  I  like 
him  very  well.  All  told,  you  see  we  have  a  various  and 
goodly  company,  not  unfruitful  of  improvement  and  interest 
to  a  practical  man.  Over  and  above  these,  I  dip  into  navi- 
gation and  voyages  with  the  captain  and  mates. 

cxxxiv. 

Ship  Celia,  Thursday,  Nov.  llth,  1845. 

I  would  have  jotted  down  the  incidents  of  our  voyage  dai- 
ly, but  found  it  nearly  impossible.  I  wrote  last  Thursday. 
From  that  time  to  this  we  have  had  head  winds,  with  the 
exception  of  some  twelve  hours  or  more.  Twice  we  have 
been  driven  out  into  the  Gulf  Stream,  which  is  usually  sixty 
miles  from  the  land.  In  good  weather,  it  is  always  thought 
best  to  keep  nearer  the  shore  to  avoid  this  current.  Twice 
we  have  been  driven  back,  about  or  above  a  hundred  miles. 
Yesterday  at  noon  we  were  in  the  latitude  of  Charleston. 
To-day  we  are  oft"  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  with  an  un- 
favorable wind  that  will  allow  us  to  approach,  but  not  to 
reach  our  port.  "We  may  get  on  to-morrow  or  next  week. 
The  weather,  meantime,  is  very  mild.  I  stay  on  the  deck 
all  day  without  an  overcoat,  and  till  nine  at  night.  The 
moon  is  a  glorious  one,  and  makes  the  evening  peculiarly 
pleasant.  As  you  look  from  the  deck  toward  this  luminary, 
your  dazzled  eye  rests  upon  an  immense  glittering  tract  of 
water,  in  the  form  of  an  inverted  pyramid,  or,  rather,  obelisk 
— its  apex  touching  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  its  broad  base 


258  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

stretching  away  to  the  horizon,  just  under  the  moon  itself. 
It  has  the  aspect  of  molten  silver,  and  the  eye  is  dazzled  and 
confused  by  looking  upon  it.  I  pace  the  deck  alone  for  hours 
after  the  other  passengers  retire.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of 
Him  who  rules  over  these  restless  elements  with  a  sway  not 
perceived,  yet  quite  absolute.  I  lift  up  audible  prayers  and 
thanksgivings  to  Him  in  these  hours,  which  are  thus  made 
delightful,  and  the  least  solitary  of  the  day.  It  is  delightful 
to  feel  that  God  is  with  one  as  he  is  tossed  upon  the  billows 
— that  He  hears  prayer  above  the  voice  of  the  tempest.  We 
have  really  been  in  no  danger,  I  suppose,  and  yet  one  feels  at 
sea,  more  than  on  the  land,  that  there  is  no  help  or  safety  in 
an  arm  of  flesh,  and  we  seem  to  draw  nigh  unto  God  with 
a  peculiar  facility  and  relish.  You  almost  feel  the  shadow 
of  His  wing,  and  rejoice  to  be  gathered  near  to  Him  now  that 
the  foundations  of  the  earth  are  moved.  I  have  enjoyed 
these  brief  seasons  very  much,  and  have  felt  great  liberty  in 
offering  praises,  prayers,  and  intercessions.  I  pray  much  for 
you — for  your  health  and  happiness — for  your  sanctification 
and  usefulness.  I  feel  a  very  special  desire  for  your  growth 
in  grace,  and  a  strong  hope  that  this  season  of  our  separation 
may  be  memorable  in  your  religious  life — that  you  may  be- 
come established,  rooted,  and  grounded  in  faith.  I  never  felt 
more  deeply  that  God  has  intrusted  you  to  me,  not  merely 
for  the  promotion  of  my  happiness,  but  for  your  spiritual  good. 
.  What  can  I  say,  my  dearest,  to  induce  you  to  a 
fuller  devotion  to  our  precious,  crucified  Savior  ?  Seek,  I  pray 
you,  to  be  ivlwlly  consecrated.  Go  to  Him  in  the  fullness  of 
love  and  faith,  and  fully  embrace  His  cross.  Give  all  to  Him, 
believing  that  He  requires  and  will  accept  all.  Cast  about 
you  during  my  absence  to  see  if  there  may  not  be  some  way 
of  doing  good  which  we  have  not  tried.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
doing  nothing.  Think  for  me,  and  tell  me  honestly  what  I 
can  improve  in — what  I  can  do  for  Christ  that  I  now  omit — 
what  I  should  omit  that  I  now  do.  Be  a  helpmeet  for  me 


STORM     AT    SEA.  259 


in  this,  as,  indeed,  you  are  in  every  thing.  Pray  for  me 
much  ;  pray  also  for  the  university.  I  seem  shut  up  to  do- 
ing good  in  that  way  or  none.  I  must  do  my  utmost  to  help 
and  establish  it,  and  that  for  Christ's  sake.  In  my  hours  of 
weakness,  I  feel  as  if  I  must  desert  my  post ;  but  I  must  la- 
bor as  long  as  I  can.  I  must  take  care  of  my  health  very 
resolutely  for  that  object — must  be  more  attentive  to  exercise 
— more  self-denying.  I  must  not  shun  any  expense  that  is 

likely  to  promote  my  health 

Saturday  was  a  rough,  stormy  day.  Sunday  was  clear, 
but  terribly  boisterous.  The  sea  was  grand  —  stupendous. 
The  billows  rolled  in  miniature  mountains.  They  were 
capped  with  foam,  and  perpetually  threatened  to  ingulf  the 
ship,  which  bounded  and  rolled  like  a  cockle-boat.  When  at 
their  highest,  the  terrible  blasts  of  wind  seemed  to  slice  off 
their  heads,  as  if  it  had  taken  the  form  of  an  immense  scythe, 
which  fairly  pared  down  the  tempest-tossed  sea  to  a  smooth, 
horizontal  level,  to  be  lifted  up  the  next  second  into  another 
crop  of  towering  billows,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  ship  trem- 
bled like  an  aspen.  I  could  have  wished  you  had  been  here 
to  enjoy  the  sigkt,  but  for  the  less  agreeable  accompaniments. 
We  were  all  dreadfully  sick — the  sea  dashed  on  the  deck — 
the  cabin  was  turned  up  edgewise,  and  it  was  no  easy  thing 
to  avoid  rolling  out  of  the  berth  by  clinging.  To-day  the  sea 
is  as  smooth  as  a  mill-pond. 

At  sea,  Thursday,  Nov.  13th,  1845. 

Since  my  last  entry  \ve  have  had  fair  weather,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  adverse  winds.  After  reaching  the  latitude  of 
Charleston,  which  we  did  three  days  since,  we  were  driven 
back,  or,  rather,  forced  to  a  tack  which  led  us  back  to  the 
latitude  of  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  in  order  not  to  be 
carried  too  far  out  to  sea.  This  unpromising  maneuver  we 
have  adopted  three  times.  At  this  moment  (10  A.M.)  we 
are  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Charleston  light-house,  which 


260  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

we  shall  probably  see  in  two  or  three  hours.  It  is  yet  above 
seventy  miles  to  Savannah.  Our  wind  is  very  light,  though 
fair  ;  and  if  it  continue  we  may  reach  our  port  to-morrow. 
This  is  the  fourteenth  day  of  a  voyage  often  made  in  four  at 
this  season  of  the  year.  With  the  exception  of  three  or  four 
days,  the  weather  has  been  mild,  and  our  passage  tolerably 
agreeable.  Better  fare  and  more  intelligent  society  are  lux- 
uries not  always  to  be  commanded  on  shore ;  while  a  return 
of  sea-sickness,  ever  at  hand,  is  quite  able  to  make  nick-nacks 
very  indifferent  things  on  the  water.  I  confess  to  the  weak- 
ness of  having  thought  it  desirable  to  have  a  clean,  fresh 
breakfast  this  morning.  I  already  have  a  little  dread  of  our 
approaching  interview  with  the  but  too  familiar  masses  of 
corned  beef,  unsavory  chickens,  and  dark,  doubtful  mush  and 
mashed  turnips.  It  is,  however,  pleasant  to  hope  beyond 
such  transient  evils,  and  look  forward  to  a  future,  in  which 
these  dinners  will,  in  the  way  of  contrast,  impart  excellent 
flavor  to  the  worst  we  are  likely  to  see  on  shore.  It  is  a  great 
matter  that  the  passengers  all  try  to  be  agreeable,  and  put 
on  no  airs — only  the  captain  of  rangers  sometimes  drops  out 
a  puny  oath  by  obvious  inadvertence — being  quite  an  inter- 
esting character. 

The  captain  is  a  pious,  though  unpolished  man,  and  is 
withal  a  careful,  competent  sailor.  The  crew  is  of  the  very 
meanest-picked  men — the  refuse  of  several  nations,  though 
only  eight  in  all.  The  order  of  service  is  this.  There  are 
two  divisions  or  watches  of  four  men  and  a  mate,  which  are 
on  duty  alternately,  in  periods  of  four  hours,  day  and  night. 
In  storms  and  heavy  seas  all  must  work.  The  captain  sleeps 
at  night  only  ;  he  rises  and  visits  the  deck  every  two  or  four 
hours.  The  worse  the  weather  the  more  work  ;  and  the  men 
must  be  wet  through,  in  or  out  of  bed,  during  a  rain.  It  is 
a  dog's  life  ;  and,  after  all  that  has  been  done  to  improve 
sailors,  they  are  the  most  degraded  of  the  species.  Yet  they 
certainly  drink  and  swear  less,  and  are  otherwise  less  vicious 


BEAUTY     OP     SEA    AND     SKY.  261 

than  they  used  to  be.  Now  and  then  we  meet  with  a  re- 
ligious sailor. 

The  sky  and  the  sea  are  full  of  beauty  to  compensate  for 
the  moral  deformity  on  board.  I  think  I  never  enjoyed  these 
and  the  pure,  refreshing  atmosphere  so  much.  Could  I  have 
you  by  my  side  to  share  and  heighten  these  satisfactions,  I 
could  be  well  content  to  commune  with  them  if  the  winds 
and  waves  compel  for  some  time  longer.  I  am  not  quite 
sure,  however,  that  I  could  have  trusted  you  alone  on  the 
deck  at  sunset  last  evening,  or  under  the  influence  of  the 
glorious  moon  that  burnished  the  whole  sky  and  sea  last 
night.  And  then  there  was  such  a  star  by  this  pale  lumin- 
ary, keeping  its  company  and  rejoicing  in  its  quiet  honors,  I 
paced  the  deck  till  ten  o'clock  with  more  sensibility  than  I 
am  wont  to  feel  in  gazing  upon  the  sky. 

Many  delightful  recollections  of  the  past  came  to  fill  up 
and  hallow  the  scene.  It  just  occurred  to  me  to  realize  fully 
what  1  had  casually  thought  of,  I  suppose,  before — that  it  is 
just  twenty-five  years  this  month  since  I  coasted  along  these 
shores  to  Savannah  before.  I  was  young  and  inexperienced. 
I  was  not  only  irreligious,  but  skeptical.  I  did  not  fear  God 
nor  love  the  Savior,  but  was  domineered  over  by  as  extrav- 
agant and  purely  worldly  an  ambition  as  ever  blinded  the 
soul  and  hardened  the  heart  of  a  young  man.  I  had  just 
partially  recovered  from  an  alarming  illness,  the  first  of  an 
unbroken  series  of  chastisements  with  which  I  have  hitherto 
been  disciplined.  I  was  not  subdued,  nor  humbled,  nor  even 
sobered,  but  only  chafed  and  roused.  To  any  one  who  knew 
my  thoughts  and  aspirations  I  should  have  seemed  at  a  hope- 
less remove  from  religion.  And  yet,  in  the  plans  of  infinite 
mercy,  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  cross.  Four  months  later,  I 
was  serious,  and  even  prayerful ;  and  in  the  beginning  of  the 
ensuing  autumn  was  happily  converted  to  God  : — a  great 
crisis  in  my  history,  which  was  to  give  a  new  coloring  to  my 
life  and  to  my  eternity.  Through  how  many  scenes  and 


262  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

changes  have  I  since  passed.  How  much  of  anguish,  and 
of  physical  and  mental  Buffering,  has  fallen  to  my  lot.  Yet 
I  have  been  a  happy,  an  increasingly  happy  man.  All  these 
things  have  manifestly  worked  together  for  my  good.  I  have 
enjoyed  religion.  I  have  been  mostly  exempted  from  doubts 
and  fears,  though  usually  penetrated  very  deeply  with  a  sense 
of  unworthiness  and  unfruitfulness.  Christ  has  kept  and 
blessed  me.  He  has  enabled  me  to  believe ;  and  now  my 
prospects  are  increasingly  delightful.  He  has  even  multiplied 
my  worldly  comforts — has  refitted  and  re-endowed  my  deso- 
lated home,  and  satisfied  all  my  wishes  for  domestic  comfort 
and  conjugal  happiness.  Such  were  the  trains  of  thought 
that  occupied  me  on  the  deck  last  evening,  and  it  is  long 
since  my  recollections  of  the  Divine  goodness  have  been  so 
vivid  and  affecting.  I  made  some  good  resolutions,  which  I 
hope  to  keep.  I  had  some  delightful  views  of  the  excellency 
of  the  Gospel,  which  yet  refresh  me.  I  looked  upon  the  vary- 
ing scenes  of  the  past  as  constituting  a  whole,  marked  and 
illuminated  by  the  Divine  mercy. 

I  doubted  the  propriety  of  recording  all  this  for  your  eyes, 
and  yet  I  find  myself  more  and  more  disposed  to  make  you 
participant  of  my  religious  thoughts  as  well  as  others.  I 
think  we  are  becoming  more  and  more  one  in  Christ  Jesus ; 
and  while  I  pray  that  our  hearts  may  be  knit  together  more 
and  more  in  all  things,  I  am  spontaneously  led  to  unbosom 
all  my  feelings.  I  have  not  been  wont  to  do  so  with  others. 
It  may  not  be  wise  to  do  so  at  all.  You  will  certainly  ex- 
cuse me  for  this  effort  to  hold  communion  with  a  mind  now 
far  away,  but  intimately  near  to  mine  in  all  the  sympathies 
and  interests  that  can  bind  immortal  spirits  together.  Oh  ! 
may  our  Savior  cheer  your  heart  in  these  days  of  loneliness 
with  many  delightful  emotions.  May  He  increase  your  faith 
greatly,  and  lead  you  into  high  and  holy  communion  with 
Himself! 


ARRIVAL     AT     SAVANNAH.  263 

cxxxv. 

Savannah,  November  15th,  1845. 

.  .  .  .  \Ve  got  to  the  Tybee  light,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Savannah,  at  daylight  this  morning,  and  got  to  town,  eight- 
een miles,  the  last  three  or  four  by  a  sail-boat.  Our  voyage 
has  been  of  sixteen  days'  duration,  pleasant  enough,  for  the 
most  part,  and  I  think  decidedly  advantageous  to  my  health, 
but  protracted  to  a  terrible  length  by  constantly  adverse 

winds 

November  16th. 

I  slept  tolerably  last  night,  which  was  better  than.  I  ex- 
pected on  coming  from  the  sea.  One  misses  the  rocking  of 
the  waves,  and,  preposterously  enough,  sets  about  getting  up 
a  substitute  for  what  is  disagreeable  enough  in  itself,  by  hard 

dreaming.     The  stationed  preacher,  Rev.  Mr.  K ,  called 

on  me  last  night  and  invited  me  to  stay  at  his  house,  and 
two  or  three  gentlemen,  members  of  our  Church,  have  called 
and  invited  me  to  dinner,  &c. 

I  need  not  repeat  to  you  that  I  feel  as  a  brother  and  a  co- 
religionist toward  my  old  friends  at  the  South.  I  still  regard 
them  as  worthy  members  of  our  great  Methodist  family.  I 
sympathize  with,  and  can  freely  extend  to  them  all  acts  of 
fraternal  recognition.  I  know  of  no  more  laborious  ministers 
than  they  are.  The  indiscreet,  though  by  no  means  criminal 
course  of  Bishop  Andrew,  placed  them  and  vis  in  a  dilemma 
utterly  inextricable.  I  am  sorry  that  both  parties  can  not 
regard  it  so,  and  find  a  common  ground  of  charity  to  meet' 
upon,  in  love  and  mutual  confidence,  if  not  of  union,  which, 
indeed,  I  regard  as  impossible,  after  all  that  has  passed.  I 
have  enjoyed  advantages,  I  think,  for  attaining  to  sound  opin- 
ions upon  this  subject,  superior  to  those  of  many  wiser  and 
better  men.  This  has  led  to  some  differences  not  at  all  agree- 
able to  me,  which,  however,  I  trust  may  never  become  per- 
sonal. The  Northern  Methodists  acted,  in  my  opinion,  both 


264  LIFE    AND     LETTERS. 

legally  and  discreetly  in  the  General  Conference.  They  can 
only  place  themselves  in  the  wrong  by  following  out  the  pol- 
icy recommended  so  intemperately  by  some  of  the  Western 
Conferences.  If  they  shall  respect  the  provisional  resolutions, 
and  in  due  time  consent  to  an  equitable  distribution  of  the 
funds  of  the  Church,  then,  I  am  confident,  history  will  hold 
us  justifiable.  If,  however,  in  our  hot  passions  and  over-much 
righteousness,  we  shall  violate  our  own  pledges,  refuse  to  do 
pecuniary  justice,  and  hold  our  Southern  brethren  schismat- 
ics, in  order  to  have  a  coloring  of  justification  for  doing  wrong, 
then  I  must  dread  the  verdict  of  both  God  and  men  in  the 
premises.  The  Northern  Church  will  never  do  this  great 
wrong  intentionally.  The  leaders  in  it  will  probably  act  con- 
scientiously ;  for  any  subject  in  which  slavery  is  ever  so  re- 
motely involved  is  liable  to  set  reason  and  right  at  defiance. 
This  remark  applies  with  exactness  enough  to  both  parties 
in  such  controversies.  Without  being  conscious  of  one  selfish 
or  resentful  feeling,  I  must  say  that  this  Church  difficulty 
has  done  and  does  more  than  any  thing  else  to  sadden  my 
happy  life.  I  desire,  above  all  things  earthly,  to  see  it  ad- 
justed on  right  principles,  that  all  parties  may  be  left  free  to 
engage  in  their  proper  work.  May  God  speedily  send  the 
reign  of  peace  and  righteousness  on  our  agitated  Zion  !  .  . 

cxxxvi. 

Charleston,  November  24th,  1845. 

I  wrote  to  you  one  week  since  from  Savannah,  from  which 
place  I  came  on  Monday  by  the  steamer,  and  reached  this 
city  on  Tuesday.  After  a  little  repose  from  the  long  sea 
voyage,  I  concluded  that  it  would  be  most  desirable  to  return 
to  New  York  by  a  packet,  and  I  expect  to  sail  on  Monday,  wind 

and  weather  permitting I  stopped  two  days  at 

the  hotel,  and  was  rather  disposed  to  remain  there  ;  but  I 
feared  that  it  might  be  ascribed  to  feelings  which  I  do  not 
possess  if  I  resisted  the  urgent  applications  of  my  old  friends 


JOURNAL     LETTER.  265 

to  stay  with  them,  so  I  came  to  the  house  of  Dr.  Capers, 
where  I  now  am.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  kindness  of  this 
very  excellent  and  interesting  family ;  indeed,  I  have  met 
with  the  utmost  kindness  and  attention  from  all  quarters. 
Yet  my  feelings  are  constantly  saddened  by  reflections  which 
I  can  not  stave  offin  regard  to  the  disruption  of  ancient  ties 
I  have  suffered  not  a  little  on  this  point  both  here  and  in 
Savannah.  It  is  a  bitter  cup  at  best.  God  alone  can  avert 
the  great  evils  upon  us  and  before  us. 

Mrs.  Ramsay,  \vho  is  very  intimate  here,  called  to  see  me, 
and  invited  us  to  tea  last  evening.  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have 
seldom  been  so  stupid  as  in  the  company  of  these  accom- 
plished sisters.  I  had  dined  at  Dr.  Dickson's,  and  had  had 
a  very  exciting  interview  with  the  son  of  an  old  Georgia 
friend,  whom  I  found  on  the  confines  of  eternity  without  re- 
ligion. I  am  little  used  to  such  scenes,  common  enough  in  a 
pastor's  history.  The  reaction  was  upon  me  by  night,  and  I 
am  sure  that  you  have  the  credit  of  having  a  husband  as  re- 
markable for  stupidity  as  for  stature.  I  mention  this  to  pro- 
mote humility  in  you,  as  I  care  little  for  such  accidents  my- 
self. 

November  25th. 

So  far  I  wrote  last  evening,  when  the  twilight  became  too 
close  for  me.  To-day  I  have  the  mortification  of  finding  that 
the  packet  will  not  leave  before  Wednesday.  I  have  become 
as  impatient  as  I  allow  myself  to  become  ;  and  I  am  fast 
coming  to  concur  in  an  opinion  often  expressed  in  my  hear- 
ing, that  /  ought  to  have  brought  you  with  me,  short  as  my 

stay  must  be My  life  has  been  a  checkered 

scene  ;  it  can  not  last  a  great  many  years  longer,  and  I  must 
count  as  lost  every  day  spent  away  from  home  if  not  devoted 
to  some  useful  purpose.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  stopped  here 
on  their  way  from  Wilmington  to  Columbia.  Both  appear 
much  improved  in  health.*  Mrs.  Wightman,  with  whom  I 

*  "My  next  meeting  with  Dr.  Olin,"  writes  Mrs.  Martin,  "was  in 

TT.  M 


266  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


spent  an  evening,  and  upon  whom  I  called  again  to-day,  has 
very  kindly  placed  her  carriage  at  my  disposal.  I  wish  you 
could  be  present  in  the  lovely  family  of  Dr.  Capers.  He  has 
eight  children  at  home,  besides  two  married,  and  one  could 
hardly  wish  him  fewer.  Remember  me  to  your  father,  moth- 
er, sisters,  and  brothers,  in  all  of  whom  I  have  a  growing  in- 
clination to  claim  my  portion. 

CXXXVII.  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  MERRIAM. 

New  York,  Dec.  7th,  1845. 

I  did  not  receive  your  letter  of  November  10th  until  the 
day  before  yesterday,  having  just  returned  from  Savannah, 
where  I  have  been  for  the  improvement  of  my  health,  by  a 
sea  voyage.  I  feel  very  deeply  the  death  of  our  much-re- 
spected brother  and  friend,  of  whose  unexpected  death  you 
communicate  the  painful  intelligence.  This  event,  though 
wholly  unexpected  as  to  the  time,  I  could  but  look  forward 
to,  as  upon  the  whole,  but  too  probable,  considering  Mr.  Pal- 
mer's infirmities,  and  his  special  liabilities  to  bilious  disease. 
This  seemed  to  me  the  only  objection  to  his  removal  west- 
ward, and  so  strong  was  my  conviction  that  his  exposure 
would  be  greater  than  that  of  ordinary  emigrants,  that  I  wish- 
Charleston,  in  November,  1845,  at  the  house  of  William  Gregg,  Esq., 
whose  guests  we  were.  Our  kind  host  invited  one  evening  for  tea 
Dr.  Olin,  Dr.  Bachman,  and  Bishop  Capers.  The  two  former  had 
been  long  desirous  of  a  personal  acquaintance.  Imagine  '  the  feast 
of  reason  and  flow  of  soul'  of  such  an  evening  !  There  was  Gregg, 
with  his  fine  practical  good  sense,  Olin  with  his  coruscations  of  ge- 
nius, Bachman  with  his  charming  versatility  of  information,  and  Ca- 
pers with  his  rich  gems  of  thought.  It  was  like  one  of  Johnson's 
evenings  with  '  Davy,'  and  '  Goldy,'  and  '  Bozzy,'  '  only  more  so ;'  for 
there  was  the  enlightened,  fervent  piety  pervading,  sanctifying  all 
that  delightful  intercourse,  all  so  comparatively  unknown  and  unfelt 
at  '  The  Mitre.' 

"  Olin,  that  was  the  last  of  thee !  Well  may  I  say,  I  ne'er  shall 
look  upon  thy  like  again  ! 

"  Columbia,  September  1st,  1851." 


FAMILY    AFFLICTION.  267 

ed  him  rather  to  purchase  a  farm  in  Vermont.  God,  howev- 
er, had  other  purposes,  and,  in  humble  dependence  upon  his 
infinite  wisdom  and  mercy,  we  may  well  spare  ourselves  all 
painful  reflections  upon  the  past,  and  look  to  the  grounds  of 
hope  and  satisfaction  which  we  find  in  his  exit.  You  do  not 
refer  to  his  state  of  mind  in  the  last  extremity,  but  I  do  not 
allow  myself  to  doubt  his  full  preparation  for  the  future.  I 
have  long  regarded  him  as  a  sincere  and  devout  Christian, 
and  I  have  good  confidence  in  his  safe  transition  to  a  better 
and  happier  world.  I  had  much  respect  for  his  character. 
He  was  a  kind  and  provident  husband  and  father,  and  it  is 
in  that  relation  that  I  most  deplore  his  loss,  just  at  a  time 
when  his  family  so  much  need  his  care.  And  yet  God  will 
no  doubt  provide  for  the  seed  of  the  righteous.  The  widow, 
we  know,  is  his  peculiar  care.  I  inclose  a  line  to  dear  sister 
Palmer,  not  knowing  her  post-office.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that 
she  bears  her  loss  with  Christian  meekness,  though  I  am  sure 
that  her  sensitive  nature  must  feel  the  shock  very  deeply. 

I  am  truly  sorry  to  learn  that  you  are  no  longer  able  to 
preach  the  Gospel.  I  can  sympathize  with  you  in  this  great 
privation,  than  which  none  can  be  more  grievous.  It  is  yet 
matter  for  congratulation  that  you  have  so  much  strength  for 
ordinary  pursuits.  It  is  a  great  blessing  to  live  for  one's  fam- 
ily after  you  can  do  little  more  for  the  Church.  How  happy 
should  I  be  to  visit  you  all  in  Illinois.  This  may  be  practi- 
cable hereafter,  though  just  now  I  am  too  busy  with  impera- 
tive duties  to  think  of  indulging  my  fervent  wishes  in  this 
respect.  I  must  work  while  it  is  day.  My  health  has  fail- 
ed me  during  the  present  year,  and  I  hardly  dare  to  hope  for 
permanent  improvement.  I  only  resolve  to  do  what  I  can 
as  long  as  I  can,  trusting  in  God  for  results.  I  send  my  love 
to  dear  sister  Adams  and  the  children.  They  are  nearly 
grown  by  this  time.  May  Heaven  bless  them,  and  make 
them  great  comforts  to  their  parents. 

I  am  very  truly  your  brother  and  friend, 

STEPHKN  OL.IN. 


268  LIFE     AM)     1-  K  T  T  E  R  S. 


CXXXVIH.  TO  A  GRADUATE  OF  1845. 

New  York,  December  31st,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  suppose  you  are  acquainted  with  the 
cause  of  my  long  silence.  I  received  your  letter  in  October, 
and,  I  assure  you,  with  much  satisfaction.  I  had  already 
been  ill  six  weeks  or  more,  commencing  with  September  5th. 
I  was  unable  to  perform  any  duty  during  the  fall  term,  and 
attended  prayers  in  the  chapel  but  three  times.  About  the 
1st  of  November  I  sailed  for  Savannah,  and  returned  to  this 
city  about  the  7th  of  the  present  month,  much  better — indeed, 
in  about  my  usual  health.  A  multitude  of  duties,  which  had 
accumulated  during  my  illness,  had  to  be  attended  to,  and, 
according  to  an  invariable  rule  of  mine,  took  precedence  of 
all  claims  not  imposed  upon  me  by  my  official  engagements. 
I  have  given  great  promineace  to  an  explanation,  because  I 
wish  to  hear  from  you  again,  and  would  not  have  you  to  sup- 
pose that  I  have  neglected  to  acknowledge  your  letter.  You 
were  likely,  also,  to  feel  some  interest  in  my  health — enough 
to  tolerate  this  paragraph. 

I  highly  approve  of  your  reasons  for  preferring  to  engage 
in  teaching,  at  least  for  the  present ;  and  I  trust  I  may  have 
opportunities  to  aid  you  in  obtaining  a  satisfactory  situation. 
It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  do  so,  whenever  I  may  be 
able.  I  should,  perhaps,  feel  much  less  of  difficulty  with  your 
peculiar  religious  notions  than  you  imagine.  I  habitually 
extend  a  very  large  charity  to  opinions  not  precisely  like  my 
own,  and  I  assure  you  that  increasing  years  and  ampler  op- 
portunities to  observe  have  no  tendency  to  chill  this  feeling. 
I  have  been  fortunate  in  becoming  acquainted  with  excellent 
men,  belonging  to  religious  denominations  not  accredited  for 
the  soundest  opinions ;  and  I  am  unable,  perhaps  constitu- 
tionally so,  to  reject,  on  the  score  of  a  rather  unsatisfactory 
creed,  piety  that  commends  itself  in  the  deportment  and  tem- 
per. In  the  case  of  a  young  man  like  yourself,  there  is  yet 


SPECULATIVE    DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.    269 

stronger  reason  for  both  hope  and  charity.  Every  thinking 
young  man  is  likely  to  pass  through  a  probation  of  many 
doubts  and  speculations  before  he  reaches  the  high  vantage- 
ground  of  a  settled,  sustaining  faith.  So  long  as  the  morals 
are  pure,  and  a  love  of  truth  and  a  deep  reverence  for  God 
maintain  their  ascendency  over  the  heart,  I  can  not  feel  that 
there  is  any  very  imminent  danger.  Whatever  errors  of  sen- 
timent you  may  have  had  the  misfortune  to  embrace — and  of 
these  I  can  not  pretend  to  be  well  informed — I  have  always 
supposed  that  you  had  these  safeguards,  and  therefore  have 
felt  less  solicitude  about  the  ultimate  issue  of  your  specula- 
tions. Allow  me  to  add,  that  I  have  thought  your  chief  want 
to  be  one  which  would  be  satisfied  by  personal  consecration 
to  God.  I  think  your  speculative  difficulties  will  mostly  dis- 
appear when  you  shall  have  reached  that  point  in  your  relig- 
ious history.  Without  knowing  what  may  be  your  peculiar 
faith  in  regard  to  the  divinity  of  Christ,  for  instance,  I  sup- 
pose that  a  deep  conviction  of  sinfulness  and  of  utter  help- 
lessness would  place  you  in  a  position  highly  favorable  to  the 
reception  of  such  views  on  this  subject  as  I  esteem  orthodox. 
Some  progress  in  Christian  experience  can  hardly  fail  of  sug- 
gesting wants  not  easily  satisfied  by  inadequate  views  of  the 
Redeemer's  offices  and  agency.  The  renewed  soul  speedily 
comes  to  feel  the  power  of  what  are  called  high  views  on 
these  points,  and  nothing  is  so  calculated  to  awaken  and  sus- 
tain its  faith  and  its  gratitude  as  the  contemplation  of  a  Sav- 
ior clothed  with  the  functions  and  attributes  which  we  are 
wont  to  ascribe  to  him.  I  do  not  mention  these  things  in  a 
controversial  way,  which  seldom  does  any  good,  but  as  my 
justification  for  taking  far  more  encouraging  views  of  your 
religious  position  than  you  may  have  imagined.  I  have  not 
thought  you  confirmed  in  any  opinions  incompatible  with  a 
saving  piety.  I  know  of  nothing  to  interfere  with  your  use- 
fulness in  any  situation  among  us,  and  I  will  gladly  aid  you 
in  your  wishes  and  objects,  when  it  may  be  in  my  power  to 


270  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

do  so.  Unquestionably,  it  might  be  indiscreet  for  you,  if,  for 
instance,  in  a  Methodist  institution,  to  promulgate  sentiments 
and  views  objectionable  to  that  denomination  ;  nor,  until  you 
had  embraced  such  opinions  fully,  would  you  be  called  on  to 
publish  them  ;  and  when  you  had,  you  would  be  at  liberty 
to  adopt  a  creed  and  a  position  in  accordance  therewith.  I 
earnestly  hope  and  pray  that  your  doubts  and  speculations 
may  result  in  your  embracing  heartily  that  form  of  Christi- 
anity which  may  prove  most  favorable  to  elevated  piety.  The 
little  distaste  you  may  have  for  Methodism  in  some  of  its 
manifestations  should  not,  and,  I  am  sure,  will  not  have  any 
permanent  influence  upon  a  mind  so  philosophical  as  yours. 
I  am  glad  to  see  a  good  article  of  yours  in  the  Methodist 
Quarterly  Review.  It  is  favorably  received,  and  I  hope  you 
will  write  again.  Give,  I  would  suggest,  a  fuller  expression 
of  your  own  views.  Here  is  a  field  open  in  which  you  may 
do  good,  despite  your  "chaotic  faith."  Occupy  this,  and  oth- 
ers will  open.  May  God  be  your  guide  to  a  proper  field  of 
action,  to  a  sound,  saving  faith,  and  to  all  happiness  here  and 
hereafter. 

CXXX1X.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Boston,  Wednesday,  January  7th,  1846. 

This,  the  first  morning  of  my  visit  in  this  enchanted  city, 
opens  with  a  northeast  storm.  It  snowed  in  the  night ;  it 
rains  since  the  dawn  of  day.  Darkness  lasted  till  seven 
o'clock.  I  am,  of  course,  shut  in,  having  a  too  lively  recollec- 
tion of  my  adventure  last  winter  to  invite  the  fate  to  which 
I  was  then  doomed,  or  doomed  myself,  under  circumstances 
so  precisely  like  the  present,  that  I  am  not  a  little  startled  at 
them 

I  was  at  the  South  Ferry  yesterday  morning  half  an  hour 
before  the  time.  Our  passage  to  Greenport  was  nearly  at  the 
rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour,  diversified  only  by  a  little  sleep, 
.which,  indeed,  helped  me  to  dispose  of  several  hours  of  the 


GLIMPSE     OF     EARTHLY     SORROW.  271 

tedious  day.  We  crossed  the  Sound  to  the  Thames,  and  took 
the  road  at  Allen's  Point,  some  six  miles  below  Norwich,  the 
ice  preventing  our  nearer  approach  to  that  city.  Near  the 
termination  of  our  ride  on  the  island,  a  man  or  boy  threw  a 
stone  through  the  window  into  the  car,  and  ran  away  off  from 
the  bank.  The  broken  glass  flew  across  the  car  into  my  face, 
but  fortunately  did  no  harm.  I  presume  this  is  a  fruit  of  the 
grudge  against  the  rail-road  intrusion  into  this  secluded  re- 
gion. On  coining  to  Allen's  Point,  I  saw  standing  among 

the  waiting  crowd  the  Rev.  Mr.  B ,  who  was  once  at  our 

house — a  short,  stout,  primitive  man.  I  accosted  him  before 
he  saw  me.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  replied  to  my 
inquiry,  "  I  am  well,  but  in  affliction.  My  children  are  all 
dead,  and  now  my  only  grandchild  has  died  of  the  croup. 
We" — pointing  to  his  wife  and  son-in-law,  to  whom  he  intro- 
duced me — "  are  going  to  New  London  with  the  corpse,  to 
bury  it  there."  All  then  wept.  I  did  not,  but  realized  the 
uncertainty  of  earthly  good.  What  sorrow  was  there  !  May 
God  bless  the  sufferers  !  May  He  give  me  a  heart  to  sympa- 
thize more  deeply  with  all  the  forms  of  human  woe  !  I  often 
fear  that  I  arn  greatly  deficient  in  this,  and  yet  I  am  no  stran- 
ger to  sorrow  myself.  It  would  be  good  for  me  to  visit  more 
sick-rooms,  more  death-beds  —  good,  I  mean,  for  the  soul, 
though  my  nerves  might  complain. 

The  captain  of  the  boat  was  very  polite,  having  heard  me 
preach  on  Sunday,  in  John  Street,  of  which  church  his  wife 
is  a  member.  1  rode  on  and  nodded  on  to  Boston,  which  we 

reached,  I  think,  before  seven  o'clock 

My  narrative  has  now  reached  the  present 
moment  (twenty  minutes  short  of  eleven  o'clock).     It  rains 

dismally.     Mr.  S has  gone  to  his  office  ;  his  wife  to  the 

nursery.     The  children  are  scattered.     E is  studying  the 

seventh  book  of  Virgil  here  in  the  dining-room,  where  I  write 
by  a  bright  coal-fire.  I  have  not  many  bright  thoughts,  as 
you  see.  I  wish  you  were  here  ;  it  would  brighten  our  view, 
despite  the  outdoor  manifestations. 


272  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

You  never  looked  forward  to  standing  on  the  pillory  or  to 
a  surgical  operation,  as  things  to  be  gone  through  by  you  the 
next  i'air  day,  so  I  am  at  a  loss  how  I  may  transfer  to  your 
mind  some  vivid  idea  of  the  bright  anticipations  which  my 
duties  here  just  now  awaken.  Difficulties  grow  small,  how- 
ever, as  we  fight  with  them,  and  I  may  come  to  love  begging 
better  in  the  act  than  in  the  distance.  This  is  my  cross  ;  I 
must  not  shun  it.  Crowns  are  won  through  this  agency. 
"  Hoc  signo  vince." 

CXL.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  March  1st,  1846. 

Until  I  received  your  last  letter,  I  think  I  had  been  under 
the  impression  that  you  were  indebted  to  us.  My  correspond- 
ence, however,  was  much  deranged  by  my  long  season  of  in- 
disposition. I  have  been  an  invalid  mostly,  ever  since  last 
August.  My  sea  voyage  in  November  helped  me  decided- 
ly, but  I  preached  half  a  dozen  times  after  my  return  to  New 
York,  and  became  ill  again.  For  the  last  month  I  have  been 
on  the  recovery,  and  really  feel  as  well  as  usual,  and  as  vig- 
orous, though  I  have  not  the  same  confidence  to  attempt  any 
thing.  Sunday  I  went  to  church,  which  is  the  second  time 
in  this  place  since  August.  I  made  a  long  exhortation  after- 
sacrament,  and  I  spoke  more  than  an  hour  in  a  college  meet- 
ing last  Thursday,  it  being  the  annual  concert  of  prayer  for 
literary  institutions.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  my  ex- 
tempore observations  on  the  way  of  coming  to  Christ  were 
made  a  blessing.  Several  of  our  students  profess  to  have 
found  peace  while  I  was  speaking.  Twenty  of  them  have 
become  professed  converts  within  the  last  ten  days,  and  more 
are  inquiring  the  way.  Nearly  fifty  converts  are  also  num- 
bered in  our  town  congregation.  It  is  truly  a  wonderful  time. 
About  three  fourths  of  our  students  profess  religion,  and  1 
never  saw  a  more  hopeful  company  of  young  men.  I  think 
there  are  many  preachers  of  righteousness  among  them,  from 
whom  the  world  will  hear  by-and-by. 


REASONS     FOR    LEAVING     HOME.  273 

I  feel  a  lively  sympathy  with  my  brother's  protracted  af- 
fliction, but  I  have  cause  to  regard  it  as  his  allotment,  and 
I  rejoice  to  know  that  he  receives  it  as  from  God.  This 
makes  any  thing  not  only  very  tolerable,  but  a  blessing.  I 
wish  I  could  say  when  I  hope  to  be  able  to  come  and  see  you. 
You  know  how  ardently  I  desire  this.  I  had  nearly  matured 
a  plan  last  summer  for  calling  on  you  for  a  brief  period.  I 
was  invited  to  open  the  splendid  Wesleyan  Chapel  in  Mont- 
real, but  the  time  fixed  on  would  not  allow  me  to  leave 
home.  Now  I  think  I  may  not  improbably  be  at  the  Troy 
Conference,  but  it  is  uncertain.  If  I  go  to  Keesville,  how- 
ever, you  will  be  on  the  way.  I  have  been  urged  from  va- 
rious sources  to  go  to  the  London  Convention,  and  on  all  ac- 
counts but  the  inconvenience  of  so  long  an  absence  from  this 
country  should  rejoice  to  go.  I  probably  shall  not  think  it 
right  to  leave  my  duties  here  and  at  the  Conferences.  The 
plan  of  endowment  is  not  yet  completed,  and  I  can  not  help 
feeling  that  this  is,  by  eminence,  my  proper  work,  perhaps 
my  last  and  only  work,  though  I  see  not  why  I  may  not  con- 
tinue to  halt  along,  as  I  have  long  done,  for  some  years  to 
come.  I  had  never  a  more  fervent  desire  to  be  useful.  Be 
this  as  Christ  will.  His  servant  I  am,  to  do  or  suffer  His 
will,  or  to  go  hence  into  His  glorious  presence. 

CXLI.  TO  MR.  .1.  R.  OLIN. 

Boston,  May  31st,  1846. 

I  am  to  sail  for  Liverpool  to-morrow,  accompanied  by  my 
wife.  This  measure  has  become  indispensable  on  account  of 
my  health,  which  has  been  precarious,  and  for  the  most  part 
decidedly  bad  for  the  last  nine  months.  What  the  voyage 
may  do  for  me  I  know  not,  but  hope  for  the  best.  I  go  abroad 
for  my  health  alone,  though  commissioned  from  both  the  New 
England  and  the  New  York  Conferences  to  attend  the  World's 
Convention  in  London.  In  the  objects  of  this  Convention  I 
sympathize  daeply,  and  would  gladly  cross  the  Atlantic  to 
M  2 


274  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

promote  them  ;  but  I  could  not  leave  the  university  in  obedi- 
ence to  any  call  except  that  of  stern  necessity.  Such  a  call 
has  reached  me  in  the  declining  state  of  my  health,  and  I 
obey  it  not  without  a  strong  reluctance.  I  could  wish  to  re- 
main at  my  post,  would  God  so  permit ;  yet  I  will  not  un- 
willingly follow  the  leadings  of  His  providence 

CXLII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

New  York,  May  27th,  1846. 

Yours  of  the  22d  came  to  hand  yesterday.  I  can  make  no 
adequate  reply.  I  have  not  strength.  I  have  not  time,  but 
must  not  go  to  sea  without  writing  you  a  line.  Crossing  the 
ocean  is  nowadays  a  small  matter,  and  yet  a  thoughtful  man 
would  arrange  his  affairs  and  take  leave  of  his  friends  before 
entering  upon  it.  I  feel  only  as  I  should  at  taking  a  journey 
into  the  interior,  only  a  little  more  depressed  at  being  longer 
from  home,  and  a  little  less  animated  with  the  prospect  of 
seeing  friends,  mine  being  mostly  on  this  side  of  the  Atlan- 
tic. If  one  must  travel,  it  is  desirable  to  have  more  stirring 
anticipations  than  belong  to  an  invalid  already  worn  out  with 
sight-seeing.  Yet  I  think  it  my  ditty  to  go.  I  must  try  to 
prolong  my  life,  and  to  rally  for  more  work,  if  God  permit. 
So  I  go.  My  wife,  however,  has  her  powers  of  enjoyment  in 
full  play,  and  I  may  enjoy  anew  through  her.  I  have  much 
interest  in  the  Union  Convention,  but  could  not  leave  home 
for  that.  I  am  very  glad  to  learn  that  Messrs.  E-mory  and 
Caldwell  are  to  be  there.  I  have  for  them  the  highest  pos- 
sible regard,  and  want  more  opportunities  to  know  them  bet- 
ter. You  know,  I  believe,  that  both  the  New  York  and  the 
New  England  Conferences  have  elected  me  a  delegate. 

I  am  to  go  to-night  to  Middletown,  to  return  to-morrow. 
On  Saturday  we  go  to  Boston,  and  to  sea  on  Monday.  May 
God  prosper  us,  and  make  this  voyage  promotive  of  our  use- 
fulness and  holiness.  You,  and  I  hope  many,  will  often  pray 
ror  us. 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  275 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE— TWO  MONTHS  ON  THE  CONTINENT. 

IN  the  autumn  of  1845,  the  earnest  desire  of  many 
Christian  hearts  in  Great  Britain,  for  a  comprehensive 
union  and  fellowship  among  the  people  of  (rod,  found 
expression  in  a  Conference  held  at  Liverpool.  Public 
sympathy  had  been  awakened  in  this  movement  by  the 
publication  of  a  volume  on  Christian  Union,  written  at 
the  suggestion  of  John  Henderson,  Esq.,  of  Park,  by 
«ight  ministers  of  various  churches,  and  by  some  forci- 
ble articles  by  the  Rev.  John  Angell  James  ;  and  when 
Christian  brethren  came  together  at  the  memorable 
meeting  in  Liverpool,  men  who  had  been  enrolled  under 
different  banners  in  the  Church  militant  recognized  a 
mutual  and  powerful  attraction  as  fellow-soldiers  in  the 
army  of  the  great  Captain  of  their  salvation.  "Love 
was  the  key-note  of  this  meeting,"  which  was  blessed 
with  many  tokens  of  the  Divine  approval.  "  A  holy 
burst  of  wonder,  joy,  and  gratitude  followed  the  an- 
nouncement that  the  basis  of  union  —  first  by  fifty  in 
committee,  and  then  by  two  hundred  in  Conference — 
was  adopted  unanimously  !"*  This  doctrinal  basis,  to 
be  approved  by  parties  forming  the  Alliance,  was  in- 
closed in  the  invitations  to  Christians  throughout  the 
world  to  assemble  in  London  on  the  19th  of  August, 
1846,  for  the  purpose  of  uniting  in  an  effort  to  bind  to- 
*  Rev.  J.  A.  James- 


276  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

gather  "  the  safeguards  of  truth  with  the  cement  of 
love." 

This  invitation  met  with  a  most  cordial  response  in 
America.     In  Dr.  Olin's  words,  "  A  wonderful  work  of 
preparation   had  been  going  on  in  the  hearts   of  the 
people,  so  that  when  the  announcement  was  made  that 
such  an  enterprise  was  on  foot  in  the  fatherland,  they 
were  prepared  to  co-operate  in  the  work  ;  and  the  mo- 
ment the  banner  was  lifted  up  with  '  charity'  written 
upon  it,  as  it  floated  to  and  fro  in  the  light  of  heaven, 
good  men  came  up  and  arranged  themselves  under  it 
in  multitudes."     Delegates  appointed  by  a  number  of 
ecclesiastical  bodies,  and  representatives  from  nearly 
all  the  evangelical  denominations  in  America,  made 
ready  to  cross  the  Atlantic  in  May  or  June,  to  be  pres- 
ent at  this  high  convocation.      Dr.  Olin  was  one  of 
this  number,  being  invited  by  the  New  York  and  New 
England  Conferences  to  represent  nearly  four  hundred 
ministers  in  the  great  assembly  in  London.     He  had 
felt  ^  a  throb  of  delight  never  before  experienced  when 
he  heard  of  this  attempt  to  develop  Christian  union, 
even  if  it  should  fail.     For  several  years  he  had  con- 
sidered himself  a  little  in  advance  of  some  of  his  breth- 
ren in  the  matter  of  Christian  charity.     He  remem- 
bered well  the  hour  when,  walking  solitarily  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Nile,  he  lifted  up  his  voice,  when  none  but 
God  heard  him,  and  offered  up  his  sectarian  bigotry, 
and  vowed  that  he  would  never  know  a  difference  be- 
tween Christians  because  they  were  not  of  the  same 
opinion."      Such   were   his   views,  subsequently    ex- 
pressed on  the  floor  of  the  Conference. 

Fine  weather,  favoring  gales,  and  agreeable  society 


VOYAGE     TO     ENGLAND.  277 

made  the  voyage  to  England  an  exceedingly  delightful 
one,  and  Dr.  Olin  spent  the  whole  day  on  the  deck, 
which  he  paced  for  hours  with  a  feeling  of  elasticity 
and  health  seldom  known  on  shore.  A  glorious  vision 
of  icebergs,  through  which  the  ship  made  its  way  as 
through  a  street  of  majestic  palaces,  penetrated  all  on 
board  with  feelings  of  wonder  and  awe.  Sir  Charles 
Lyell,  who  was  returning  from  his  second  visit  to  the 
United  States,  was  all  excitement,  as  he  never  before 
had  enjoyed  so  near  a  view  of  these  stately  visitants 
from  the  Frozen  Zone,  and  he  gave  a  little  knot  of 
eager  listeners  the  results  of  his  scientific  investiga- 
tions into  the  laws  of  their  formation  and  progress. 
With  this  accomplished  traveler,  Dr.  Olin  walked  and 
talked  for  hours  on  the  varied  phases  of  social,  political, 
and  religious  life  in  the  United  States,  as  they  had  been 
noted  by  the  eyes  of  these  shrewd  and  watchful  ob- 
servers. 

The  passengers  of  the  Britannia  landed  at  Liverpool 
early  on  the  morning  of  Sunday,  the  14th  of  June,  and 
Dr.  Olin  went  at  6  P.M.  to  Brunswick  Chapel,  where 
he  had  last  been  present  at  the  Centenary  Conference, 
and  heard  a  sermon  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Osborn  on  the 
Intercession  of  Christ,  which,  he  said,  was  truly  "Wes- 
leyan  in  its  character — simple,  clear,  direct,  and  scrip- 
tural. 

In  the  rapid  rail- way  journey  from  Liverpool  to  Lon- 
don, perhaps  the  point  of  greatest  attraction  was  the 
Rugby  Station,  where,  during  the  brief  pause,  Dr.  Olin 
looked  out  most  earnestly  upon  the  quiet  fields  and  lofty 
elms,  in  sight  of  which  Dr.  Arnold  spent  fourteen  years 
of  usefulness  and  holy  activity.  No  picturesque  or  ro- 


278  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


mantic  charm  there  riveted  the  eye,  but  the  mighty 
human  interest  made  the  very  name  electrical.  It 
called  up  thoughts  of  the  manly  energy  with  which 
this  "prince  of  schoolmasters"  breasted  the  tide  of  life 
— of  his  power  in  moulding  the  chaotic  elements  of  the 
boy-nature  —  and  of  the  summons  that,  in  the  midst 
of  his  "  unhasting,  unresting  diligence,"  called  him 
away  from  his  broad  plans  and  prospects,  from  the  "al- 
most awful  happiness"  of  his  unbroken  domestic  circle 
to  the  serene  activities  of  Heaven. 

From  London  Dr.  Olin  wrote  to  Professor  Smith  a 
letter,  dated 

CXLIII. 

June  16th,  1846. 

I  have  only  a  few  minutes  to  inform  you  of  our  safe  arrival 
in  this  city.  We  had  a  passage  of  twelve  days — one  of  the 
shortest,  and  as  nearly  exempt  from  all  the  manifold  disagree- 
ables of  sea- faring  life  as  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  can  be. 
We  had  fine  weather,  fair  wind,  very,  agreeable,  intelligent 
company,  and  as  good  fare  as  we  needed — better  would  real- 
ly have  been  worse.  I  lost  only  one  meal  from  sea-sickness. 
Mrs.  Olin  was  on  the  invalid  list  about  tAvo  days,  all  told. 
She  is  now  in  perfect  health,  and  as  eager  to  see  sights  as  is 
compatible  with  absolute  sanity.  She  must  attach  herself 
to  such  chance  patronage  as  may  offer,  as  I  have  but  little 
nerve  for  this  annoying  business.  She  is  now  out  on  a  visit 
to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 

We  may  leave  day  after  to-morrow  for  Paris,  having  de- 
termined to  spend  the  residue  of  this  and  the  next  month  on 
the  Continent.  I  have  been  to  see  Mr.  M'Lean  to-day,  to 
arrange  the  passports — a  vexation  which,  thank  God,  is  un- 
known in  our  country.  I  also  called  on  Dr.  Alder,  who  in- 
quired after  my  colleagues  with  special  interest.  I  ought  to 


PARIS.  279 

inform  you  that  we  got  to  Liverpool  on  Saturday  night. 
Having  spent  the  Sabbath  there,  we  came  to  London  on. 
Monday  (yesterday),  so  that  this  is  our  first  day  of  repose. 
I  find  that  I  need  it  much.  The  transition  from  sea  to  the 
land  is  always  a  crisis  with  me,  requiring  more  care  than, 
with  the  excitements  usual  at  such  times,  I  found  it  easy  to 
exercise I  think  I  may  conclude  that  I  am  bet- 
ter, perhaps  I  should  say  decidedly  better,  for  my  voyage. 
While  at  sea,  I  was  quite  renewed  in  strength.  I  strongly 
hope  that  I  may  come  home  in  improved  health,  fitted  to  do 
at  least  a  little  in  our  common  vocation.  Yet  in  this  and  in 
all  things  I  am  trying  to  be  ready  to  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 
I  mean  to  give  up  the  correspondence  to  Mrs.  Olin.  This 
is  the  only  line  I  venture  to  write  at  present.  I  beg  you  to 
give  our  love  to  the  beloved  circle  with  which  our  vocation 
unites  us  so  intimately.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  me  de- 
scending from  my  proper  official  dignity  when  I  request  you 
to  assure  the  students  of  my  affectionate  remembrance  of 
them.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  personal,  familiar  friends, 
there  are  no  other  persons  in  the  world  to  whom  I  could  with 
such  sincerity  repeat  such  assurances.  To  Mrs.  Smith,  Mrs. 
Childs,  and  especially  to  Sophia,  who  I  trust  is  better,  and 
to  the  whole  family,  I  beg  to  be  remembered.  I  hope  to  hear 
from  you  as  early  as  practicable,  and  am  truly  and  affection- 
ately your  friend  and  fellow-laborer, 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 

Notwithstanding  his  protest  against  sight-seeing,  Dr. 
Olin  spent  three  weeks  visiting  with  his  wife  the  gar- 
dens, churches,  and  galleries  of  .Paris,  through  which 
he  proved  an  admirable  guide,  familiar  as  he  was  with 
all  objects  worthy  of  attention.  Every  Sunday  they 
attended  the  humble  "Wesleyan  Chapel,  in  the  Rue  de 
la  Concorde  (almost  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  gorgeous 
Madeleine),  where  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Toase,  min- 


280  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

istered  to  a  congregation  composed  principally  of  En- 
glish and  Americans.  In  this  chapel  Dr.  Olin  preached 
on  Sunday  morning  with  his  usual  impassioned  earnest- 
ness, and  doubtless  with  a  feeling  of  devout  gratitude 
to  his  heavenly  Father  for  the  ability  vouchsafed  him 
to  sound  one  clear  ringing  note  of  warning  and  invita- 
tion in  that  brilliant  city,  where  he  had  spent  so  many 
months  of  languor  and  inaction. 

The  following  letter,  describing  a  terrible  accident 
which  delayed  his  journey  to  Belgium,  was  written  to 
the  senior  class  of  the  Wesleyan  University,  with  the 
hope  that  it  would  reach  them  before  they  separated 
at  Commencement.  How  fervent  was  the  thanksgiv- 
ing he  poured  forth,  when,  upon  his  arrival  at  the  hotel 
at  Douay,  he  called  upon  his  friends  to  join  him  in 
thanking  Grod  for  preserving  them  from  so  fearful  a 
death,  and  for  holding  their  souls  in  life  that  they  might 
praise  Him. 

CXLIV.  TO  THE  STUDENTS  OF  THE  WESLEYAN  UNIVERSITY. 

Ghent,  July  13th,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  FRIENDS, — We  have  just  had  a  signal  escape 
from  imminent  danger,  and  been  witnesses  of  a  dreadful 
scene.  We  left  Paris  on  the  7th  instant  for  this  place,  hav- 
ing delayed  a  day  or  two  in  order  to  accompany  our  friends, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Harper,  and  their  party.  The  first  night 
we  passed  in  Amiens,  in  order  to  examine  some  objects  of  in- 
terest. There  was  especially  its  celebrated  cathedral,  which 
is,  I  think,  the  finest  specimen  of  Gothic  architecture  I  have 
any  where  seen. 

The  next  morning  (Wednesday,  the  8th)  we  took  passage 
by  the  new  rail-road  for  Ghent,  and  at  three  o'clock  P.M. 
were  still  in  the  midst  of  the  interminable  plains  of  Artois 
and  French  Flanders,  now  covered  with  luxuriant  wheat, 


RAIL-WAY     ACCIDENT.  281 


just  ripe  for  the  harvest.  At  precisely  five  minutes  past 
three  the  train  reached  an  embankment  about  thirty  feet 
high,  over  which  it  was  to  cross  a  valley.  It  was  formed  of 
sand — the  foundation  was  a  bog,  in  which  large  ponds  had 
been  made  by  digging  peat  for  fuel — so  that  on  either  side 
of  our  aerial  path  the  water  was  ten  or  fifteen  feet  in  depth. 
The  weight  of  the  train,  which  consisted  of  twenty-five  cars, 
drawn  by  two  powerful  engines,  or  perhaps  its  rapid  motion, 
or  both  together,  caused  the  sand  to  yield.  One  of  the  iron 
rails  broke  ;  the  chain  which  attached  the  engines  to  their 
cortege  was  parted,  and  then  nearly  or  quite  one  half  of  the 
train  of  carriages  was  precipitated  down  the  embankment. 
Our  carriage  was  near  the  middle — a  little  further  back.  I 
think.  We  felt  the  shock,  and  in  the  same  breath  perceived 
ourselves  thrown  to  the  lower  side  of  the  vehicle,  of  which 
the  floor  was  now  almost  perpendicular.  It  pleased  God  that 
our  descent  should  be  arrested  on  the  slope  of  the  embank- 
ment. We  succeeded  in  opening  the  door,  and  reached  the 
road  unhurt.  Here  we  had  opportunity  to  observe  the  char- 
acter and  extent  of  this  calamity.  One  hundred  and  fifty 
persons,  men,  women,  and  children,  thronged  the  way,  all 
deeply  excited — mostly  pale  and  trembling  with  terror,  and 
not  a  few  stunned  or  bleeding  with  their  wounds.  While  all 
were  breathless  with  anxiety  to  know  the  nature  and  extent 
of  the  calamity,  and  yet  afraid  to  inquire  or  examine,  a  man 
was  brought  up  the  bank,  covered'with  blood,  already  dead. 
They  laid  him  down  by  us.  A  priest,  who  was  of  our  com- 
pany, approached  to  tender  his  offices.  Another  man  was 
the  next  moment  laid  by  his  side,  terribly  bruised  and  dis- 
figured— his  clothes  being  mostly  torn  off.  For  two  or  three 
minutes  his  bosom  heaved,  but  he  soon  expired.  The  people 
covered  their  faces  with  a  cloak.  A  third  was  brought  up 
the  dike,  groaning  and  crying  out  aloud  and  piteously.  I 
thought  him  evidently  dying,  and  he  called  upon  death  to 
come  and  relieve  him  ;  but  his  injury  was  less  than  we  had 


282  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

supposed,  and  I  heard  two  days  after  that  he  was  doing  well, 
though  several  of  his  ribs  were  broken,  besides  other  wounds. 
I  believe  this  man  was  aid-de-camp  to  General  Oudinot,  of 
the  French  army,  who  was  also  present,  but  escaped  unhurt. 
My  attention  was  absorbed  by  the  dreadful  spectacle  so  near 
me.  I  hoped  that  I  had  seen  the  worst  of  the  scene,  when 
I  perceived  a  flat-boat  or  raft  passing  from  the  wreck  to  the 
shore  with  several  dead  bodies  which  had  been  taken  out  of 
the  water.  Nine  of  these  unfortunates  were  stretched  side 
by  side  upon  the  grass  when  I  left  the  ground.  It  is  prob- 
able that  from  thirty  to  forty  persons  perished.  Of  one  com- 
pany of  thirteen  from  Paris,  only  two  could  be  found.  Of 
about  thirty  persons  in  one  carriage,  I  heard  that  only  eleven 
escaped.  Many  of  the  bodies  were  not,  at  the  end  of  two 
days,  recovered.  I  conversed  with  a  gentleman  on  Friday 
morning  who  was  just  from  the  scene,  which  he  described  as 
still  painfully  affecting.  One  of  the  carriages,  with  its  freight 
of  living  souls,  was  submerged  ;  the  next  was  thrown  upon 
it  in  such  a  way  as  to  force  it  into  the  bog  below,  and  with 
all  their  exertions  they  had  not  yet  been  able  to  extricate  it, 
though  they  had  discovered  the  legs  of  several  victims  pro- 
truding out  of  the  mud.  One  man  lost  a  wife  and  two  chil- 
dren, and  was  himself  killed  the  next  day  by  coming  in  col- 
lision with  a  post  near  the  Belgian  line.  One  lady  was  saved 
by  being  drawn  out  of  the  submerged  carriage  by  the  hair. 
Two  children  were  taken  out  of  the  water  by  an  Englishman, 
who  was  himself  struggling  for  his  life  in  the  same  element. 
After  enumerating  so  many  particulars  of  such  a  tragedy,  it 
is  hardly  allowable  to  speak  of  personal  inconveniences. 

One  absorbing  emotion,  I  am  sure,  was  that  of  a  grateful 
exultation  at  God's  so  signal  interposition  in  our  behalf. 
Death  never  appears  so  dreadful  as  it  does  when  its  coming 
is  so  sudden  and  unexpected — when  it  falls,  like  a  thunder- 
bolt out  of  a  clear  sky,  upon  the  young,  the  busy,  the  joyous, 
the  thoughtless.  I  thought  how  feeble  and  how  frail  is  man  ! 


R  A 1  L  -  Hr  A  Y     A  C  C  I  D  K  i\  T.  283 

How  contemptible  does  his  might  appear  when  it  comes  into 
conflict  with  such  elements  and  agents  as  now  made  us  their 
sport  !  Life  never  seemed  to  me  half  so  desirable  as  it  did 
at  the  moment  I  looked  upon  the  series  of  dead  and  dying 
men,  whom  a  few  moments  had  arrayed  on  either  side  of  us. 
I  could  not  help  following  these  unfortunates  from  the  green, 
gay  world,  now  hidden  from  their  eyes,  to  the  world  of  retri- 
bution, into  which  they  had  in  a  single  moment  been  trans- 
planted. Could  I  even  hope  they  had  put  their  trust  in 
Christ  ?  Without  Christ,  where  were  they  ?  Who  could  fol- 
low out  this  train  of  thought  in  regard  to  undying  souls  while 
the  crushed  tenement  was  yet  warm  and  quivering  ?  I  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  praying  for  the  dead.  I  think  the  cry, 
"  God,  have  mercy  upon  them  !"  was  extorted  from  me. 

After  two  or  three  hours,  a  small  train,  which  had  been 
sent  for  to  Douay,  arrived,  and  our  party,  with  many  more, 
proceeded  to  Douay,  some  eight  or  ten  miles  distant.  There 
we  were  delayed  two  days  in  making  such  arrangements  for 
the  prosecution  of  our  journey  as  our  circumstances  required. 
The  trunks,  which  contained  our  wearing  apparel  and  other 
requisites  for  traveling,  were  quite  demolished.  I  saw  the 
lid  and  some  other  fragments  of  mine,  and  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  recover  the  most  of  my  wardrobe,  which  was  strewed 
amid  the  wreck  of  the  carriages.  What  was  yet  more  sur- 
prising, I  at  length  succeeded  in  finding  a  purse  of  gold,  near- 
ly all  the  money  I  had  with  me,  which  had  escaped  from  the 
trunk,  and  was  buried  in  the  sand.  A  peasant,  of  whom  a 
crowd  was  soon  gathered,  came  to  assist  me  in  my  labors, 
with  the  apparent  design  of  profiting  by  our  disaster.  I  drove 
him  away  with  some  difficulty,  and  with  the  ai'd  of  an  offi- 
cer. Mrs.  Olin's  baggage  fared  worse  than  mine.  Not  a 
fragment  of  her  trunk  was  found,  though  her  things  were 
mostly  recovered  and  brought  to  Douay  that  evening,  or  the 
next  day,  with  a  huge  mass  of  things  gathered  up  on  the 
sand  and  out  of  the  water.  Whatever  we  had,  not  contained 


284  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

in  the  trunks,  was  submerged  in  the  morass  or  recovered  in 
a  most  hopeless  state.  We  obtained  new  trunks  in  Douay, 
and  were  ready  to  proceed  on  our  journey  after  a  stop  of  two 
days.  Mr.  Harper's  baggage  also  suffered  very  much.  He 
was  detained  three  days,  having  arrived  here  last  night. 

Yesterday  Mrs.  Olin  and  myself  made  an  excursion  to 
Bruges,  an  antiquated,  forlorn  city,  only  worth  seeing  on  ac- 
count of  its  historical  associations,  its  curious,  quaint  archi- 
tecture, and  a  few  remarkable  pictures  of  the  early  Flemish 
school.  We  returned  last  evening,  and  to-day  had  the  priv- 
ilege of  listening  to  a  useful  sermon  on  the  very  subject  of 
our  late  danger  and  deliverance,  from  an  English  clergyman, 
who  preaches  to  a  very  small  congregation  of  his  countrymen 
here,  and  is  the  only  Protestant  minister  in  this  great  city. 
There  may  have  been  forty  persons  present,  of  whom  full  one 
half  were  from  America.  I  was  happy  to  recognize  in  this 
small  assembly  the  Rev.  Drs.  De  Witt,  Skinner,  and  Patton, 
of  New  York.  We  expect  to  proceed  to-morrow  toward  the 
Rhine,  stopping  a  day  or  two  by  the  way  to  see  Brussels  and 
Antwerp. 

I  am  sure  my  dear  friends  in  the  university  will  feel  some 
interest  in  the  details  I  have  given,  from  their  regard  to  us 
personally,  and  yet  I  had  another  and  less  obvious  motive  in 
directing  this  letter  to  them.  They  were  present  to  my 
thoughts  almost  immediately  after  our  escape  from  peril ;  and 
while  we  were  yet  surrounded  by  the  victims,  I  was  irresist- 
ibly led  to  inquire  if  I  was  prepared  for  such  a  death,  if  God 
should  call  me  to  it ;  and  my  next  inquiry  was,  whether  they, 
for  whom  I  am  bound  to  care  most,  are  ready  for  the  reali- 
ties of  a  world  into  which  they  may  be  precipitated  with  such 
fearful  haste.  I  think  it  my  duty  to  remind  you  of  your  lia- 
bilities and  obligations,  and  I  beseech  of  you  all  to  make  this 
work  of  preparation  your  chief  work  and  your  first  work. 
Thank  God,  most  of  you,  I  trust,  are  Christians ;  and  yet  I 
remember  that  you  are  young,  are  exposed  to  dangers,  are 


BERNESE    OBERLAN1).  285 


liable  to  look  upon  death  as  far  away,  and  to  live  with  less 
piety  than  you  would  be  willing  to  meet  death  with.  I  ex- 
hort you  most  affectionately  to  be  always  ready — to  keep  your 
lamps  trimmed — to  have  your  loins  girded,  and  to  be  ready 
for  this  journey  to  the  other  world.  Do  not  become  relaxed 
— do  not  restrain  prayer — do  not  neglect  duty — do  not  be- 
come worldly.  Oh  !  live  for  God,  for  Christ,  who  was  cruci- 
fied for  you — for  heaven,  that  He  has  purchased  for  you.  Do 
not  make  the  first  retrograde  step.  Follow  the  Savior  with 
all  your  hearts.  Some  of  you  have  passed  through  college  so 
far  without  religion.  Of  these,  there  are  some  whom  I  may 
not  meet  again.  To  them  I  beg  the  liberty  of  extending  this 
one  affectionate  warning  more — this  one  urgent  demand  of 
them,  that  they  give  their  hearts  to  God  now,  while  they 
have  time,  and  light,  and  life.  I  commit  you  all,  my  dear 
friends,  as  I  do  daily,  to  the  protection  and  grace  of  our  heav- 
enly Father.  I  hope  to  meet  you  ere  long.  I  pray  that  we 
may  meet  in  heaven.  I  beg  an  interest  in  your  prayers,  as 
you  always  have  in  mine. 

Very  affectionately  yours,  S.  OLIN. 

Dr.  Olin  had  previously  visited  the  quaint  old  towns 
of  Belgium,  but  the  beautiful  Rhine,  with  its  vine-clad 
hills  and  storied  castles,  was  new  to  him,  and  the  two 
days  passed  upon  its  waters,  and  in  the  towns  upon  its 
banks,  were  full  of  interest.  The  view  of  the  Bernese 
Oberland,  which,  at  a  distance  of  sixty  miles,  in  all  its 
magnificence,  "cloud-land,  gorgeous  land,"  broke  upon 
him  on  the  road  from  Basle  to  Berne,  awakened  an  ir- 
repressible desire  to  look  upon  those  snowy,  rose-tinted 
mountains  from  some  of  the  green  valleys  nestled  among 
them ;  and,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom  of  adhering  to 
a  plan  when  formed,  he  changed  his  route,  and  the 
horses  heads  were  turned  toward  Fribourg  and  Thun 


286  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

instead  of  Lausanne.  The  sight  of  the  "  air-hung, 
breeze-shaken"  suspension  bridges,  thrown  over  the 
rocky  chasm  at  Fribourg,  and  the  swelling,  pealing 
notes  of  its  wonderful  organ,  to  which  he  listened  in 
the  twilight  till  he  was  quite  overwhelmed  with  its 
majestic  harmonies,  which  gave  him  a  new  idea  of  the 
power  of  sound,  made  him  thankful  for  his  change  of 
route.  The  day,  too,  spent  in  visiting  the  Grrindelwald, 
was  one  of  the  most  memorable  in  his  continental  tour. 
The  morning  sail  on  the  lovely,  deep  blue  Lake  of  Thun, 
encircled  by  its  guardian  mountains — the  smiling  val- 
ley of  the  Grrindelwald,  with  its  picturesque  village, 
and  the  glacier  creeping  into  the  green  and  flowery 
meadow — the  lofty  arch  of  ice,  beneath  which  flowed 
the  torrent  of  the  Black  Leutschine,  foaming  and  dash- 
ing far  below  the  road  through  the  narrow  gorge — and 
the  perpendicular  walls  of  rock,  with  chalets  and  patch- 
es of  verdure  on  their  seemingly  inaccessible  summits, 
stamped  a  succession  of  vivid  images  on  the  mind. 
The  next  day,  being  Sunday,  was  passed  at  the  Hotel 
Bellevue,  which  resembles  an  ornamental  villa,  with  a 
profusion  of  oleanders,  orange,  and  lemon-trees  about 
the  house  and  grounds,  and  commands  a  fine  view  of 
the  Lake  of  Thun,  and  of  the  snowy  Jungfrau  in  the 
distance.* 

*  On  the  hill  rising  in  the  rear  is  a  pretty  little  church,  built  by 
the  enterprising  landlord  on  his  grounds,  who  gave  repeated  invita- 
tions to  his  guests  to  attend  the  morning  service.  At  the  ringing 
of  the  bell  a  goodly  company  wound  up  the  path,  and  soon  filled  the 
church.  At  the  close  of  the  service,  Dr.  Olin  was  much  amused  at 
the  important  bearing  of  the  landlord,  who,  solicitous  alike  for  the 
bodies  and  the  souls  of  his  guests,  stood  at  the  door  of  the  church 
observing  the  congregation,  while  the  merry  strains  proceeding  from 


THE     HOTEL     GIBBON. 


At  Lausanne,  at  the  Hotel  Gribbon,  Dr.  Olin  walked 
to  and  fro  on  the  terrace  by  moonlight,  looked  on  the 
tree  under  the  shade  of  which  Gribbon  had  often  rested, 
and  thought  of  an  hour  when,  under  similar  associa- 
tions, the  celebrated  historian  penned  the  last  sentence 
of  his  great  work,  upon  which  no  heavenly  blessing  had 
been  invoked,  and  which  has  thrown  chains  of  doubt 
over  many  a  young  and  ingenuous  mind.  It  had  aided 
in  fettering  the  expanding  intellect  of  the  Vermont  boy, 
now  transformed  into  the  strong  man,  the  mature  and 
established  Christian ;  for  those  bonds  were  but  as  the 
"  two  new  cords  upon  the  arms  of  Samson,  which  be- 
came as  flax  burned  with  fire  when  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  came  mightily  upon  him."  The  next  morning 
Dr.  Olin  called  to  see  the  Rev.  Charles  Cook,  in  whose 
society  he  had  passed  a  fortnight  so  agreeably  at 
Nismes,  in  1838,  but  he  found  that  he  had  gone  to 
England  to  attend  the  Wesleyan  Conference  at  Bristol. 
From  his  wife  and  daughter  he  learned  many  particu- 

his  little  iron  steam-boat  on  the  lake  announced  the  arrival  of  those 
for  whose  Sabbath  hours  he  had  provided  a  different  entertainment. 
"  How  did  you  like  the  sermon  1"  he  inquired  of  a  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England,  as  they  descended  the  hill  together.  "  Not  at 
all,"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  allow  such  Puseyite 
doctrines  to  be  preached  to  your  guests."  "  What  can  I  do,"  said  the 
discomfited  host ;  "  I  am  no  judge,  as  I  do  not  understand  English,  and 
I  wrote  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  thinking  that  he  would  send  me  a 
good  minister.  But  what  shall  I  do  for  next  yearl"  "Perhaps  T 
will  come  and  supply  your  pulpit  myself,"  said  the  clergyman.  The 
next  morning,  at  breakfast,  there  was  presented  to  each  guest  the 
book  recording  the  donations  of  visitors  to  the  salary  of  the  clergy- 
man, which  was  paid  by  the  landlord,  and  which,  judging  from  the 
amount  of  money  subscribed,  was  no  losing  concern  to  the  good  man. 
Those^who  failed  to  enter  their  names  had  in  their  bills  the  significant 
item  Eglise  a  volonte. 


288  LIFE    AND     LETTERS. 


lars  of  the  religious  agitations  in  the  Canton  de  Vaud ; 
and  then,  guided  by  Miss  Cook,  he  visited  the  cathe- 
dral and  the  Signal,  a  hill  commanding  a  wide  extent 
of  undulating  ground,  diversified  with  vineyards  and 
villages — the  calm,  beautiful  Lake  of  Geneva,  and  the 
lofty  mountains  rising  from  its  opposite  shores. 

On  taking  the  steam-boat  for  Gfeneva,  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  29th  of  July,  Dr.  arid  Mrs.  Olin  met  with 
agreeable  Christian  friends,  with  whom  they  enjoyed, 
at  this  time  and  in  subsequent  excursions,  many  pleas- 
ant hours.  These  were  the  Rev.  Professor  and  Mrs. 
Edwards,  of  Andover,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hop- 
kins, of  Buffalo.  Of  that  company  of  six,  four  have  in 
six  years  been  transferred  to  a  land  where  the  slight 
ties  of  earth  are  woven  into  bonds  of  immortal  strength 
and  beauty.  Two  unclouded  days  were  spent  at  Cha- 
mouni  gazing  from  the  Fiegere  upon  Mont  Blanc,  with 
his  princely  array  of  attendant  aiguilles,  and  clamber- 
ing up  the  rugged  sides  of  Montanvert  to  look  upon 
the  wonders  of  the  Mer  de  Glace.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hop- 
kins were  of  the  party  of  four,  of  which  there  is  but 
one  survivor  ;  the  others  have  made  the  "  grand  final 
adventure,"  which  has  introduced  them  to  a  world  the 
vague  idea  of  whose  glories  may  possibly  be  made  more 
palpable  to  the  inquiring,  longing  eye  of  faith  by  the 

devout  contemplation  of  earth's  sublimest  scenes. 

.  '  • 

CXLV.  TO  PROFESSOR  H.  B.  LANE. 

Geneva,  August  3d,  1846. 

We  have  now  been  in  this  beautiful  city  five  days.  I  think 
my  last  letter  to  Middletown  was  written  from  Brussels. 
From  thence  we  went  to  Antwerp,  and  by  the  Belgian  rail- 
road reached  the  Rhine  at  Cologne.  We  stopped  a  day  or 


LETTER  FROM  GENEVA.  289 

two  successively  in  Cologne,  in  Bonn,  Coblentz,  Frankfort-on- 
the-Main,  Heidelberg,  Baden-Baden,  Strasbourg,  Basle,  So- 
leure,  Thun,  Fribourg,  arid  Lausanne,  devoting  as  much  time 
as  we  thought  advisable  to  the  objects  of  interest  in  each 
place,  and  deviating  from  this  devious  route  to  visit  whatever 
especially  demanded  such  a  course. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  have  spent  a  good  deal  more  time 
upon  this  part  of  our  route  than  I  had  intended,  though  it 
was  my  purpose  to  remain  in  this  country  nearly  until  the 
middle  of  August.  At  one  time,  indeed,  I  had  hoped  that  I 
should  feel  authorized  to  be  present  in  London  on  the  4th  in- 
stant, to  attend  the  World's  Temperance  Convention,  but  I 
have  what  I  esteem  controlling  reasons  for  declining  the 
honor  of  that  appointment.*  Not  that  I  have  any  new  rea- 
sons in  connection  with  my  health.  That  continues  as  good 
as  it  has  been  since  I  came  upon  the  Continent — better,  very 
decidedly,  than  before  I  left  America  ;  but  the  weather  is  ex- 
tremely oppressive,  as  it  has  been  for  two  months,  with  the 
exception  only  of  a  few  days,  and  I  might  incur  some  hazard 
by  spending  the  entire  month  in  the  heart  of  London.  I  have 
fresh  in  my  memory,  also,  the  warning  of  Dr.  Woodward  on 
the  imprudence  of  attending  public  meetings.  I  must  be  pres- 
ent at  the  Christian  Alliance,  if  possible,  and  the  urgency  of 
this  obligation  inculcates  the  necessity  of  using  due  forbear- 
ance in  regard  to  other  indulgences.  The  truth  is,  I  have 
had  less  of  positive  rest  since  I  came  abroad  than  I  antici- 
pated. I  have  been  in  motion,  with  only  brief  intervals,  at 
least,  ever  since  I  left  Paris  ;  and,  although  we  were  in  that 
great  city  sixteen  days,  I  rode  or  walked  nearly  every  day  as 
much  as  I  was  able.  I  think  this  course,  upon  the  whole, 
the  best  for  me,  though  I  had  expected  to  find  some  nook  in 
this  country  so  quiet  and  inviting  as  to  favor  a  fortnight  or  so 
of  repose.  Up  to  this  time,  however,  I  have  not  found  a  con- 

*-He  had  been  appointed  a  delegate  by  the  American  Temperance 
Union. 

II.  N 


290  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

venient  opportunity  for  such  quietude.  Indeed,  every  nook 
and  corner  of  Switzerland  is  full  of  life  and  motion  at  pres- 
ent. This  is  the  traveling  season,  and  the  busiest  part  of  it. 
All  the  hotels  are  full,  and  the  inducements  to  move  are  very 
strong.  The  five  days  of  nominal  repose  in  this  city  have 
hung  rather  heavily  upon  me,  and  I  propose  to  leave  Geneva 
to-morrow  for  the  region  of  Mont  Blanc.  There  and  there- 
about we  intend  to  spend  the  most  of  the  week.  On  Tues- 
day, the  llth  of  August,  we  are  to  set  out  for  Paris  by  the 
diligence,  a  journey  which  I  dread  more  than  a  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic.  It  is  an  old  terror  of  mine.  I  had  intended  to 
go  down  the  Rhine  to  Holland  or  Belgium,  in  order  to  avoid 
it,  but  the  time  and  money  which  such  an  expedient  will 
cost  seems  to  render  a  resort  to  it  of  doubtful  propriety.  I 
hope  not  to  stay  in  Paris  above  a  day  or  two.  I  gave  as 
much  time  to  its  sights  as  I  could  afford,  and  have  become 
even  anxious  to  see  the  letters  which  I  suppose  are  in  wait- 
ing for  me  in  London.  We  have  had  but  one  letter  from 
the  United  States,  and  that  was  dated  June  10th.  From 
the  university  and  our  friends  in  Middletown — the  centre  of 
attraction  no  less  than  of  solicitude — I  have  not  yet  heard,  nor 
do  I  expect  to  hear  before  reaching  London.  I  trust  that  all 
are  well,  and  that  all  is  well.  May  God  prosper  your  en- 
deavors to  promote  the  good  cause  ! 

Mr.  John  Harper,  with  his  wife,  son,  and  nephew,  have 
been  with  us  since  we  reached  London.  Rev.  Mr.  Hopkins 
and  lady  are  also  with  us,  and  Professor  B.  B.  Edwards  and 
Mrs.  Edwards  are  here.  The  Rev.  Drs.  Skinner  and  Patton 
left  Geneva  the  day  before  we  reached  it.  Another  company 
of  American  clergymen,  from  Charleston,  Baltimore,  and  Phil- 
adelphia, were  here  a  month  ago.  We  are  a  traveling  peo- 
ple, and  I  fear  the  world  will  say  a  traveling  profession.  I 
have  a  clear  conscience,  and  so,  no  doubt,  have  my  pilgrim 
countrymen.  I  travel  that  I  may  work — not  that  I  may  es- 
cape work.  Much  as  I  enjoy  the  fine  scenery  of  this  beauti- 


LETTER  FROM  GENEVA.          291 

ful  region,  I  should  enjoy  that  and  the  occupations  of  Mid- 
dletown  much  more,  provided  always  that  I  had  health  to  en- 
dure the  presence  of  calls  to  labor,  which  are  only  disagreea- 
ble when  I  am  unable  to  obey  them.  I  indulge  favorable 
hopes  in  regard  to  the  future.  At  the  worst,  this  experiment 
will  be  of  some  value,  as  a  test  of  what  I  am  to  expect  and 
what  I  can  hope  to  do. 

Next  Wednesday  will  be  your  Commencement.  I  shall 
probably  be  near  the  Mer  de  Glace  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  yet 
I  am  sure  my  thoughts  will  be  chiefly  occupied  with  scenes 
far  away.  How  gladly  would  I  be  with  you  on  that  inter- 
esting day  !  It  grieves  me  to  think  that  the  senior  class  will 
be  scattered  so  soon,  and  that,  in  all  probability,  I  shall  see 
most  of  them  no  more.  I  think  they  are  prepared  to  do  good 
in  the  world,  which  is  the  main  thing  after  all,  yet  I  would 
rejoice  to  be  with  them  at  such  a  season.  May  God  pre- 
serve every  man  of  them  from  all  evil,  and  make  every  one 
instrumental  in  promoting  the  highest  interests  of  our  race  ! 
I  had  intended  to  seek  the  acquaintance  of  some  of  the  lead- 
ing men  here,  but  have  not  done  so.  D'Aubigne  is  away 
for  the  summer,  and  the  town  is  deserted  by  most  of  those 
who  are  able  to  consult  their  own  tastes.  The  chasm,  how- 
ever, is  quite  filled  up  with  strangers.  I  am  going  to  hear 
Mr.  Malan  preach  before  leaving  Geneva.  He  is  the  bright 
star  of  the  evangelicals  here. 

I  send  my  love  to  Mrs.  Lane  and  the  children,  and  to  each 
of  the  Faculty  and  their  families.  Say  to  brother  Floy  that  I 
intend  to  write  to  him  from  London.  I  regret  that  I  am 
losing  so  much  of  his  society  and  ministry.  I  hope  you  are 
all  pleased  and  edified  under  his  preaching. 

Dr.  Olin  did  not  carry  out  his  plan  of  recording  his 
impressions  of  Alpine  scenery,  and,  under  the  title  The 
Grlaciers,  he  only  recalled  his  former  views  of  the  Alps, 
and  did  not  proceed  beyond  the  introduction  to  his 


292  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

subject.  This  he  wrote  in  his  memorandum-book  at 
Vevay,  on  an  excursion  from  Geneva  to  the  Castle  of 
Chillon : 

Vevay,  August  1th,  1846.  I  obtained  the  first  view  I  ever 
enjoyed  of  the  Alps  and  of  Mont  Blanc  in  November,  1838, 
while  sailing  on  the  Rhone  between  Lyons  and  Avignon. 
The  monarch  of  mountains  was  then  covered,  or,  rather, 
crowned  with  snow,  as  were  several  other  peaks  of  this  vast, 
magnificent  pile — the  circumstance  to  which  I  was  indebted 
for  a  spectacle  equally  gratifying  and  unexpected.  I  was  on 
my  way  to  Italy,  which  I  had  intended,  and  twice  attempted 
to  visit,  by  the  great  inland  route  through  Switzerland,  but 
was  prevented  by  ill  health.  I  made  another  fruitless  at- 
tempt to  penetrate  the  sublime  Alpine  region  in  1840,  on  my 
return  from  the  Holy  Land  ;  but,  on  reaching  Zurich,  which 
I  did  from  Vienna,  with  the  design  of  passing  through  the 
Oberland,  and  seeing  Mont  Blanc  from  some  of  the  wild 
valleys  and  easily  accessible  summits  in  its  neighborhood,  I 
found  myself  unequal  to  the  toil  and  exposure  of  such  an  en- 
terprise, and  reluctantly  took  the  route  through  Basle  to  Par- 
is. Here,  again,  an  hour  or  so  before  reaching  Brugg,  I  had 
an  unexpected  and  glorious  view  of  a  long  range  of  Alps, 
clad  in  their  eternal  snows,  and  rising  into  distinct  pinnacles, 
which,  from  my  position,  sixty  or  seventy  miles  distant  from 
them,  appeared  not  unlike  a  row  of  colossal  pyramids,  lifting 
their  hoary  tops  high  above  the  immense  field  of  mountains 
that,  to  my  eye,  had  sunk  into  a  plain. 

London,  August  Wth,  1846.  I  reached  this  city  yesterday 
evening  from  Dieppe,  having  left  Paris  on  Friday  at  2  P.M. 
We  stopped  at  Mr.  Randall's.  To-day  I  heard  Rev.  Hugh 
Stowell  in  Bow  Church — a  clear,  ardent,  faithful  discourse 
on  the  commendation  of  the  unjust  steward.  The  lord  may- 
or was  there  in  state.  It  was  a  charity  sermon  for  the  in- 
digent blind.  Mr.  Stowell,  who  is  from  Manchester,  is  a  huge 


THE     EVANGELICAL    ALLIANCE.  293 

man — very  ruddy — has  a  good  voice — used  no  notes,  and  was 
bold  and  eloquent — clear  and  striking,  though  not  original  or 
profound. 

Sunday  evening.  I  heard  the  Rev.  George  Steward  in 
City- road  Chapel  —  a  powerful,  profound,  eloquent  sermon, 
which  I  have  seldom  heard  equaled.  Mr.  Steward  is  un- 
couth in  manner,  but  the  equal  of  Chalmers  in  matter  and 
spirit,  and  much  of  the  same  school. 

Monday  \lth.  Attended  the  "  Aggregate  Committee"  pre- 
liminary to  the  Evangelical  Alliance. 

This  I  did  morning  and  evening,  on  Monday  and  Tuesday. 
On  Wednesday,  the  19th,  "the  Alliance"  met.  I  was  able 
to  attend  all  its  meetings  till  it  rose,  on  Thursday,  September 
3d.  Many  delightful  seasons  did  I  enjoy  with  the  elite  of 
European  Christians.  They  were  eminently  "  times  of  re- 
freshing," for  which  I  hope  long  to  be  thankful  to  the  Giver 
of  all  good  gifts. 

In  this  great  movement  Dr.  Olin  was  completely  ab- 
sorbed ;  before  nine  in  the  morning  he  was  on  his  way 
to  the  Conference,  which  he  did  not  leave  till  about  nine 
at  night.  One  speech  which  he  made  in  the  course 
of  debate  was  said  to  be  most  thrilling  and  effective. 
It  was  entirely  unpremeditated,  and  was  taken  down 
by  the  reporter  to  the  Convention,  and  published  in 
their  official  report.*  It  is  more  like  himself  than  his 
address  at  the  public  meeeting  in  Exeter  Hall,  where 
in  the  evening,  worn  out  with  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
he  was  unable,  in  the  fifteen  minutes  allowed  to  each 
speaker,  to  throw  himself  into  the  subject,  and  to  give 
a  satisfactory  expression  of  his  sentiments.  His  views 
on  the  great  questions  which  occupied  the  attention  of 
the  Alliance,  and  in  the  discussion  of  which  he  bore  a 
*  Dr.  Olin's  Works,  vol.  ii.,  p.  466. 


294  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

prominent  part,  are  fully  expressed  in  the  letters  to  his 
friends.  "  It  was,"  he  says,  "  a  truly  glorious  meet- 
ing— such  an  assemblage  of  great  and  good  men  as  will 
hardly  be  seen  again  in  this  generation.  Our  harmony 
and  our  power  of  harmonizing  was  truly  wonderful,  and 
only  to  be  accounted  for  by  supposing  the  presence  of 
a  divine,  subduing  agency." 

A  general  feeling  of  thanksgiving  and  love  animated 
the  meeting,  and  the  devout  aspirations  of  many  hearts 
were  expressed  by  the  Rev.  Edward  Bickersteth  (the 
Fletcher  of  the  Alliance),  when  he  prayed  that  "the 
primitive  state  of  the  Church  might  again  be  realized, 
and  that  the  multitude  of  them  that  believe  might  be 
of  one  heart  and  one  soul."  When  called  to  vote  upon 
the  motion,  "  that,  deeply  convinced  of  the  desirable- 
ness of  forming  a  confederation  on  the  basis  of  great 
evangelical  principles,  held  in  common  by  them,  &c., 
they  hereby  proceed  to  form  such  a  confederation  un- 
der the  name  of  '  THE  EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE  ;'  "  at  the 
recommendation  of  the  chair,  the  entire  assembly  rose, 
and  spent  a  few  moments  in  solemn,  silent  prayer. 
The  resolution  was  carried  unanimously,  the  members 
remaining  standing ;  then,  with  a  swell  of  holy  song, 
the  Doxology  rose  from  their  united  hearts  and  voices  ; 
after  which,  under  the  influence  of  most  kindly  and 
delightful  feelings,  the  members  of  the  Alliance  ex- 
changed cordial  greetings  by  shaking  hands  with  each 
other.  Praise  to  Grod  and  love  to  man  were  the  dom- 
inant feelings  of  that  gathered  throng.  Another  hour 
of  concentrated  and  hallowed  Christian  sentiment  was 
that  in  which  the  motion  to  adopt  the  Doctrinal  Ba- 
sis (-"  a  combination  of  solemn,  weighty,  all-important 


DIFFICULTIES.  295 


truths  to  be  presented  to  the  Christian  world")  was  car- 
ried, and  the  Conference,  with  a  glow  of  devotional  feel- 
ing, sang  the  hymn, 

"  All  hail  the  great  Immanuel's  name, 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall, 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 
And  crown  him  Lord  of  all !" 

But,  amid  these  scenes  which  gave  a  foretaste  of 
heavenly  fellowship  and  joy,  the  disturbing  element  of 
slavery  was  thrown  in,  and  the  resolution  was  pressed 
upon  the  Conference  that  no  slaveholder  should  be  a 
member  of  the  Alliance.  The  American  brethren  urged 
that,  having  received  a  basis  of  union  to  which  they 
could  subscribe,  and  having  left  their  homes  to  accept 
the  invitation  of  British  Christians,  the  basis  should 
not  have  been  altered  by  the  addition  of  an  article 
which,  had  it  been  received  with  the  invitation,  would 
have  prevented  most  of  the  Americans  from  crossing 
the  Atlantic.  This  argument  would  have  had  great 
weight  but  from  the  fact  that  some  of  the  Americans 
had  opened  the  door  to  innovations  by  suggesting  the 
addition  to  the  basis  of  the  article  on  the  doctrine  of 
eternal  rewards  and  punishments.  Some  of  the  most 
distinguished  English  brethren  deprecated  the  intro- 
duction of  the  subject  of  slavery  as  "  inconsistent  with 
the  principles  and  design  of  the  whole  movement,  as 
tending  to  give  it  a  political  character,  and  to  involve 
the  Alliance  in  the  discussion  of  questions  with  which 
it  had  no  concern."  They  felt  "  impressed  with  the 
conviction  that  it  would  be  the  means  of  crippling,  to  a 
certain  extent,  or  destroying  this  glorious  movement."* 
*  Mr.  Justice  Crampton. 


296  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

Dr.  Olin,  with  others  from  America,  protested  against 
this  resolution  from  the  first,  "  under  the  most  over- 
whelming conviction  that  nothing  could  be  done  under 
it  in  America — that  it  would  be  impossible  to  gather 
under  such  a  banner  a  tenth  of  the  sober  Christianity,  or 
a  tenth  of  the  sober  anti-slavery  feeling  of  the  Northern 
States.  After  an  animated  discussion,  the  matter  was 
referred  to  a  special  committee,  appointed  by  the  chair, 
of  fifty  members.  Dr.  Olin  was  one  of  this  committee, 
which,  after  hours  pf  prayerful  deliberation,  and  after 
concessions  made  in  the  spirit  of  love  by  both  parties, 
brought  in  their  report,  which  recommended  that  the 
resolution  on  the  slavery  question  be  rescinded,  and  the 
following  proposition  be  submitted  to  the  Conference  : 

"  That,  whereas  brethren  from  the  continents  of  Eu- 
rope and  America,  as  well  as  in  this  country,  are  un- 
able, without  consultation  with  their  countrymen,  to 
settle  all  the  arrangements  for  their  respective  coun- 
tries, it  is  expedient  to  defer  the  final  and  complete  ar- 
rangement of  the  details  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  of 
which  the  foundation  has  now  been  laid,  till  another 
General  Conference." 

This  was  carried,  and  the  Conference  closed  as  it 
began,  in  the  full  exercise  of  Christian  fellowship  and 
love.* 

*  The  Evangelical  Alliance  held  its  second  session  a  few  days  after 
Dr.  Olin  had  entered  into  the  full  and  complete  harmony  of  a  higher 
existence.  A  letter  written  from  London  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Peck,  by 
the  Rev.  William  Arthur,  one  of  the  Wesleyan  missionary  secretaries, 
and  author  of  "The  Successful  Merchant,"  groups  many  of  the  dis- 
tinguished men  who  shared  in  the  deliberations  of  that  great  assem- 
bly, where  nine  hundred  brethren  of  all  evangelical  denominations 
met  together  in  unity.  The  brief  reference  we  have  made  to  the  only 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  297 

The  annexed  document,  presented  to  the  Conference 
and  entered  on  the  minutes,  expresses  the  feelings  with 

subject  which  disturbed  the  harmony  of  the  Conference  may  suggest 
the  reason  why  "  the  Alliance  has  scarce  lived  in  America." 

"Augustus,  1851. 

"  The  Evangelical  Alliance  is  now  in  full  session.  It  began  its  sit- 
tings more  than  a  week  ago,  and  is  to  continue  them  for  some  days 
longer,  so  as  to  extend  altogether  over  a  fortnight.  The  present  Con- 
ference is  scarcely  so  numerous  as  the  great  Constituent  Assembly  of 
1846.  Many  who  were  present  and  active  then  are  absent  now.  You 
will  well  remember  Edward  Bickersteth,  R.  W.  Kyle,  and  Dr.  Byrth  : 
all  these  have  gone  to  a  world  where  union  is  unbroken.  Dr.  Bunt- 
ing, too,  who  was  so  prominent  then,  is  disabled  by  failing  strength 
from  attending.  His  accomplished  and  able  son,  Mr.  William  Bunt- 
ing, is  just  emerging  from  a  very  dangerous  illness  ;  so  that  he  also 
is  away.  Dr.  Wardlaw  and  Dr.  Liefchild  are  both  there  ;  but  upon 
both,  especially  the  former,  five  years  have  told  with  affecting  power. 
Baptist  Noel  is  no  longer  the  same  man.  That  placid  grace  which 
animated  his  fine  visage  so  equably  has  given  place  to  deeper  lines 
and  a  less  sunny  expression ;  altogether  he  looks  older,  and  more  like 
a  man  who  had  felt  the  wear  and  waste  of  life.  J.  A.  James  and 
Thomas  Binney  are  much  what  they  were.  So  also  is  Dr.  Cox  and 
J.  H.  Hinton.  The  youthful  air  of  Dr.  King  is  merging  into  gray 
hairs.  The  dark  locks  of  Dr.  Buchanan  have  grown  bright  gray. 
James  Hamilton  is  neither  older-looking,  nor  less  simple  and  lovable. 
Thomas  Farmer  is  stooping.  Sir  Culling  Eardly  is  growing  older. 
John  Henderson  is  just  as  white  of  hair  and  as  fresh  of  complexion. 
Adolphe  Monod,  Tholuck,  Fisch,  Baup,  and  Ouken,  are  little  changed. 
Krumacher,  the  celebrated  author  of  Elijah,  is  there,  with  a  large  Ger- 
man frame,  surmounted  by  a  great  head,  which  is  luxuriantly  over- 
hung with  light  locks.  A  persecuted  Baptist  brother  from  Sweden, 
and  another  from  Denmark ;  a  fine  Chinese  youth,  a  young  Brahmin, 
just  going  out  to  labor  among  his  countrymen,  after  a  residence  of 
some  years  at  Basle,  in  Switzerland  ;  a  Syrian  gentleman  in  full  Ori- 
ental attire,  and  always  wearing  on  his  head  the  fez,  or  red  close  cap, 
and  who  has  completed  his  curriculum  of  medical  studies,  and  is  about 
to  go  out  to  his  countrymen  as  a  medical  missionary  ;  these  all  add  to 
the  interest  of  the  assembly.  The  muster  of  French  brethren,  of 
Swiss,  and  of  Germans,  is  greater  than  at  the  first  Conference.  The 
other  nations  of  Europe  also  are  represented,  as  they  were  not  then. 

N  2 


298  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

which  the  Americans  parted  from  their  English  breth- 
ren: 

"  The  undersigned,  as  a  committee  of  the  American  mem- 
bers of  the  Alliance,  beg  leave,  on  behalf  of  their  countrymen, 
to  say,  in  these  concluding  scenes  of  the  Conference,  that 
they  feel  it  proper  to  express  the  grateful  satisfaction  which 
they  have  experienced  during  these  sessions.  They  have  wit- 
nessed the  piety,  the  intelligence,  and  the  benignity  of  Eu- 
ropean, and  especially  of  British  Christians — as  well  as  your 
hospitality,  your  large-hearted  Catholicism,  your  steady  pur- 
suit of  the  object  and  the  interests  of  this  Holy  Alliance — and 
also  your  self-denial,  your  generous  expenditure  to  a  very 
large  amount,  in  preparation  for  the  Conference  and  in  con- 
nection with  it,  and  their  hearts  have  responded  with  divine 
delight,  glorifying  God  in  you.  Accept  these  sincere  utter- 
ances of  gratitude  and  fraternal  feeling.  They  commend  you 
all — and  especially  the  honorable  baronet,  Sir  Culling  Eard- 
ley  Smith,  who  has  so  ably  and  kindly  presided  over  the  de- 
liberations— with  all  their  hearts,  to  the  covenant  favor  of 
God  our  Savior.  They  will  gratefully  remember  you  when 
far  absent,  should  it  please  God  to  reconduct  them  in  health 

But  on  all  hands  a  want  has  been  felt.  Where  is  the  gentle  and  in- 
tellectual Spring  1  Where  the  noble  and  manly  Patton  1  Where  the 
vivacious  and  sparkling  Cox  1  Where  the  glowing  and  melting  Kirk  ? 
Where  the  lofty  and  powerful  Olin  1  Where,  sir,  your  own  worthy 
person,  with  those  of  many  another  brother,  Spicer,  Dempster,  Ken- 
naday,  from  our  brother  country  in  the  West — where  1  They  are  not 
all  gone  with  the  brave  and  hopeful  Emory,  where  our  ears  may  not 
hope  ever  again  to  hear  the  moving  words  of  his  eloquence.  Many 
of  them  are  yet  with  us  here,  in  this  our  place  of  need  and  struggle ; 
yet,  when  we  meet  to-day,  they  meet  us  not.  Why  1  Alas !  alas  ! 
why1?  Our  Alliance  has  scarce  lived  in  America ;  our  brethren  who 
came  thence  went  home  from  us,  we  are  told,  with  a  heavy  heart ; 
and  now  that  we  convoke  the  world  again,  good  Dr.  Baird  appears 
among  us  mournfully,  and  seems  to  say,  I  only  am  come  alone  to  tell 
you." 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  299 


and  safety  over  the  vast  ocean  to  their  beloved  native  coun- 
try, and  to  the  incomparable  endearments  of  '  home,  sweet 
home,'  in  the  circles  of  their  own  families.  They  ask  a  kind 
remembrance  in  your  prayers,  and  trust  that  all  will  unite 
to  strengthen  the  bonds  of  Christian  amity  and  cordial  appre- 
ciation between  these  two  related  countries  by  all  proper  in- 
fluence in  regard  to  them  ;  and  they  conclude  with  the  pray- 
er that  this  blessed  Alliance  may  have  and  enjoy  the  patron- 
age and  favor  of  God  Almighty,  in  whom,  through  the  Lord 
and  Savior  Jesus  Christ,  is  all  our  hope.  And  with  these 
sentiments  they  desire  to  bid  you  all  a  most  affectionate 

FAREWELL  ! 

"  STEPHEN  OLIN,     )  Committee  as 
"SAMUEL  H.  Cox,  )        above. 

"  Freemason's  Hall,  London,  Sept.  1st,  1846." 

On  Sunday,  August  the  23d,  eighty-one  pulpits  of 
different  denominations  in  London  were  occupied  by 
members  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  and  there  was 
preaching  in  French,  Grerman,  and  Irish,  as  well  as  En- 
glish. The  pulpit  assigned  to  Dr.  Olin  by  the  commit- 
tee of  arrangements  was  in  Queen  Street  Chapel,  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  where  the  Rev.  Dr.  Beaumont  was  then  sta- 
tioned. The  next  Sunday  he  preached  in  the  City- 
road  Chapel,  where,  in  by-gone  years,  Wesley,  with  a 
countenance  luminous  with  truth  and  goodness,  and 
words  instinct  with  life  and  power,  ministered  to  an 
eager,  earnest  crowd,  "  the  ransomed  of  Methodism." 
During  the  meetings  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  in 
London,  two  public  breakfasts  were  given — one  by  Sir 
Culling  Eardley  Smith,  who  presided  with  grace  and 
singular  ability  at  the  sessions  of  the  Convention,  and 
who  extended  the  hospitalities  of  his  house  to  all  its 
members ;  and  another,  by  the  "Wesleyan  missionary 


300  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

secretaries  to  their  foreign  brethren.  The  latter  was 
given  in  the  Centenary  Hall,  where  about  thirty  guests 
sat  down  to  a  beautiful  repast,  adorned  with  fruits  and 
flowers,  and  served  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  that  noble 
missionary  building.  Dr.  Bunting,  who  presided,  made 
some  kind  observations  in  regard  to  American  Method- 
ism and  its  representatives  then  present,  at  the  close  of 
which  he  requested  Dr.  Olin  to  occupy  a  few  moments 
in  giving  utterance  to  such  sentiments  as  he  should 
think  adapted  to  the  occasion.  After  making  suitable 
allusions  to  other  topics,  Dr.  Olin  spoke  of  the  subject, 
which  rushed  to  his  lips  he  knew  not  how  wisely, 
which  was  already  darkening  the  prospects  of  the  Al- 
liance, and  which  soon  would  be  forced  on  the  atten- 
tion of  all  present.  He  took  occasion  to  urge  the  im- 
portance of  cultivating  fraternal  relations  among  all  the, 
branches  of  the  great  Wesleyan  family,  and,  expressing 
his  regret  that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  South 
was  not  represented  in  their  circle,  nor  in  the  Alliance, 
he  assured  his  elder  brethren  that,  while  no  branch  of 
the  great  Wesleyan  family  is  more  worthy  of  confi- 
dence on  the  score  of  sound  doctrine,  sincere  piety,  and 
truly  "Wesleyan  labors,  none  are  more  distinguished  for 
large  catholic  sentiments  and  aspirations.  He  refer- 
red to  the  division  of  the  Church  as  ecclesiastical,  and 
as  in  no  way  affecting  the  right  of  either  party  to  rec- 
ognition and  confidence ;  and  he  expressed  his  convic- 
tion that  the  two  great  bodies  would  unquestionably 
return  to  sentiments  of  mutual  confidence  and  affec- 
tion, so  soon  as  the  pending  controversies,  of  which 
all  were  growing  weary,  became  exhausted  and  qui- 
eted. Dr.  Peck  and  Dr.  Emory  confirmed  Dr.  Olin's 


BREAKFAST  AT  CENTENARY  HALL.    301 


statements  ;  and  Dr.  Emory,  with  great  simplicity  and 
grace,  spoke  of  the  details  narrated  to  him  by  his  fa- 
ther of  his  visit  to  his  Wesleyan  brethren  as  the  first 
delegate  from  American  Methodism,  as  being  among 
the  most  vivid  memories  of  his  childhood,  and  of  the 
gratification  it  had  afforded  him  to  have  those  early 
impressions  clearly  defined  and  confirmed  by  his  per- 
sonal presence  in  the  midst  of  them. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Toase,  from  Paris,  who  spoke  in  behalf 
of  the  brethren  from  the  Continent,  introduced  a  pas- 
teur  from  Montauban,  whose  remarks  being  in  French, 
were  translated  by  the  Rev.  Charles  Cook,  of  Lausanne. 
He  was  a  convert  of  Felix  Neff,  who  came  to  his  fa- 
ther's house  when  the  speaker  was  a  boy,  and  prayed. 
Deeply  affected  by  the  earnest  prayer  of  this  primitive 
apostolic  man,  he  requested  him  to  write  it  for  him ;  but 
Neff  declined,  telling  the  eager  petitioner  that  he  must 
ask  Grod  to  teach  him  to  pray.  He  had  learned  to  make 
his  requests  known  unto  Grod,  and  the  three  desires  of 
his  heart  had  been  granted — that  he  might  become  a 
colporteur,  a  minister,  and  a  missionary.  Mr.  Cook 
then  briefly  alluded  to  the  disturbances  in  the  Canton 
de  Vaud,  and  the  persecutions  which  had  broken  up 
their  congregations  and  closed  their  churches  ;  and,  as 
the  party  separated  at  the  close  of  this  delightful  en- 
tertainment, he  accompanied  Dr.  01  in  to  the  Conference 
at  Freemason's  Hall.  The  same  day,  Dr.  Olin  dined  at 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Alder's,  where,  among  the  distinguished 
guests,  Professor  Tholuck,  by  the  freedom  and  vivacity 
of  his  remarks  on  the  political  and  religious  aspects  of 
his  own  country,  perhaps  made  the  largest  contribution 
to  the  pleasures  of  the  hour.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Bevan,  the 


302  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


secretary  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  who  led  the  con- 
gregational singing  in  the  great  meeting  at  Exeter 
Hall,  spoke  of  Madame  Tholuck's  pleasure  in  hearing 
"  (rod  save  the  Emperor ;"  and  while  the  fruits  were 
put  on  the  table,  at  the  request  of  an  American  lady, 
he,  in  a  deep,  rich,  full  voice,  again  raised  the  noble 
strain : 

"  May  the  grace  of  Christ  our  Savior, 
With  the  Father's  boundless  love, 
And  the  Holy  Spirit's  favor, 
Rest  upon  us  from  above." 

Dr.  Olin's  letters  to  Professor  Smith  and  Dr.  Floy, 
and  a  few  entries  in  his  memorandum-book,  reveal 
his  deep  interest  in  the  object  which  had  brought  him 
across  the  Atlantic,  and  record  the  incidents  of  his  re- 
maining days  in  England. 

CXLVI.  TO  PROFESSOR  A.  W.  SMITH. 

London,  Sept.  1st,  1846. 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  favor  received  three  days  ago. 
I  write  by  a  gentleman  who  is  about  leaving  the  house  for 
Liverpool,  or  I  could  be  able  to  enter  more  fully  into  some 
interesting  topics  than  is  now  possible.  I  need  not  say  that 
I  greatly  rejoice  at  the  favorable  auspices  under  which  the 
Commencement  passed.  It  was  an  anxious  day  with  me,  I 
assure  you.  Though  at  the  base  of  Mont  Blanc,  I  was  with 
you  in  spirit,  and  I  earnestly  desire  never  again  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  duties  and  interests  to  which  I  must  yet  feel  so 
deeply  pledged.  I  am  full  of  confidence  in  my  beloved  col- 
leagues, but  this  hardly  diminishes  my  desire  to  be  at  my 
post.  I  trust  I  shall  have  improved  somewhat  in  health  by 
this  pilgrimage.  I  probably  could  have  done  nothing  at 
home,  which  is  the  one  alleviating  thought. 

Our  Evangelical  Alliance  is  formed.     It  has  been  a  season 


THE     EVANGELICAL    ALLIANCE.  303 

long  to  be  remembered  by  us  all.  Memorable,  I  trust,  it  will 
be  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  We  have  passed  through  the  most 
trying  scenes.  Through  insurmountable  difficulties  God  has 
graciously  led  us.  We  have  reached  harmonious  conclusions 
after  all  hope  had  abandoned  us.  We  have  at  last  settled 
on  a  basis  free  from  all  taint  of  ultraism — almost  with  the 
consent  of  ultraists.  Indeed,  the  presence  of  God  and  his 
overruling  influence  have  been  wonderful,  and  very  manifest. 
I  trust  the  whole  enterprise  will  redound  to  Christ's  glory 
throughout  the  whole  world  and  all  ages.  It  was  truly  good 
to  be  here,  though  we  of  America  have  had  the  deepest  tri- 
als. We  all  part  better  friends  than  we  could  ever  have 
been  without  these  trials.  We  are  now  known  in  England, 
and  I  think  that  bad  men  and  devils  will  find  it  hard  to 
poison  the  Christian  mind  of  a  great  Christian  nation  against 
us  in  one  generation  more. 

We  have  had  an  assembly  of  great,  learned,  and  holy  men, 
such,  I  apprehend,  as  the  world  has  not  seen  before.  What 
was  most  wonderful  has  been  their  humility  and  love  one  to 
another.  The  pent-up  heart  of  our  Christianity  exulted  at 
such  an  opportunity  for  making  known  its  deep  emotions.  I 
am  quite  confident  that  we  shall  be  better  hereafter,  /mean 
to  be. 

Mrs.  Olin  has  written  all  particulars.  Give  my  love  to 
dear  Mrs.  Smith  and  the  family,  also  to  our  beloved  asso- 
ciates and  their  families,  as  also  to  the  students.  How  hap- 
py I  shall  be  if  God  allow  me  to  be  among  you  again  ! 

CXLVII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  FLOY. 

London,  Sept.  19th,  1846. 

I  had  hoped  to  hear  from  you  ere  this  time,  and  yet  the 
fault  may  be  wholly  mine — you  may  be  waiting  to  hear  from 
me.  If  so,  I  must  beg  your  pardon,  and  claim  it  on  the  score 
of  having  been  pressed  with  many  more  engagements  than  I 
have  fulfilled,  or  could  possibly  fulfill.  As  to  correspondence, 


304  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

you  have  probably  seen  every  letter,  with  perhaps  a  single 
exception,  that  I  have  written  since  I  saw  you.  They  have 
all  been  to  my  colleagues  in  Middletown.  I  am  to  embark 
at  Portsmouth  on  the  24th  inst.,  in  the  Prince  Albert,  Cap- 
tain Sebor,  for  New  York.  I  have  thought  this  a  better  way 
than  to  return  by  a  steamer,  though  I  can  ill  spare  the  ad- 
ditional time.  I  need  the  sail,  and  this  is  a  controlling  rea- 
son with  me. 

You  will  hear  by  others  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  I 
suppose  the  papers  will  have  given  you  full  reports  ere  this 
meets  your  eye.  You  may  perhaps  wish  to  know  my  opin- 
ions on  the  subject.  The  meeting  more  than  equaled  my 
expectations,  whether  reference  is  had  to  the  actual  interest 
of  its  proceedings  or  the  character  and  spirit  of  its  members. 
Many  truly  great  men  and  good  men  assisted  at  its  sittings ; 
and  it  was  delightful  beyond  all  my  anticipations  to  witness 
the  simple,  child-like,  loving  piety  of  great  divines  and  schol- 
ars, whom  we  have  admired  so  much  in  the  distance.  All 
seemed  deeply  impressed  with  the  momentous  importance  "of 
our  objects,  and  all,  I  think,  left  London  pretty  well  satisfied 
with  the  results.  Not  that  the  plans  and  anticipations  of  all 
were  satisfied.  Perhaps  those  of  none  were  fully  met.  All 
were  called  upon  to  concede  more,  probably,  than  they  had  at 
all  anticipated ;  but  the  spirit  in  which  concessions  were  made 
was  so  delightful  that  it  brought  with  it  a  blessing  as  from 
God.  Not  a  few  instances  occurred  in  which  men  voted 
against  views  which  they  had  advocated  with  powerful  ar- 
gument and  eloquence — not,  perhaps,  because  they  were  con- 
vinced, but  because  it  seemed  right  to  yield  so  much  to  the 
wishes  or  conscientious  difficulties  of  others.  Not  a  few  of 
these  exigencies  arose,  and  our  deliverances  from  them  were 
usually  accompanied  by  the  most  signal  evidences  of  the  Di- 
vine presence  and  favor.  It  was  the  universal  testimony 
that  these  manifestations  were  unusual  and  marked.  You 
heard  from  the  mouths  of  the  most  sedate,  cautious,  and  pru- 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  305 

dent  men  constant  expressions  of  wonder  and  gratitude  — 
declarations  that  they  had  never  felt  such  religious  emotions 
before — had  never  thought  of  such  sweet,  heavenly  scenes  in 
this  world. 

God  only  knows  what  permanent  good  may  come  of  this 
meeting ;  hut  sure  I  am  that  those  who  were  present  will 
rejoice  in  the  sweet  influences  that  fell  upon  them,  and  will 
deem  it  a  peculiar  favor  to  have  mingled  in  such  heavenly 
converse.  I  must  believe  that  lasting  good  will  be  the  re- 
sult. I  foresee  obstacles.  We  met  with  serious  obstacles, 
which  I  could  have  anticipated.  What  new  difficulties  may 
rise  on  our  side  of  the  water,  I  will  wait  for  time  to  disclose, 
though  I  might  conjecture  some  with  but  too  strong  a  feeling 
of  certainty.  Every  thing  may  be  lost  by  attempting  too 
much.  This  became  very  apparent  here.  It  was  found  that 
measures  deemed  harmless  in  England  or  useful  in  Scotland 
were  likely  to  prove  injurious  or  fatal  in  Prussia  or  France 
It  was  this  comparison  of  interests  that  gave  so  mild  an  as- 
pect to  the  anti-popery  side  of  the  Alliance  ;  so  that  all  my 
wishes  on  that  subject  were  satisfied  in  the  absolute  necessi- 
ties of  the  case.  Another  very  troublesome  point  arose  out 
of  the  injudicious  attempt  forced  upon  the  Alliance  to  make 
it  an  abolition  movement.  I  am  quite  sure  that  nine  tenths 
of  the  Convention  deplored  this  effort  as  foreign  to  the  objects 
of  the  Alliance.  I  believe  every  American  but  Mr.  Himes, 
including  many  thorough-going  abolitionists,  strongly  depre- 
cated the  introduction  of  the  subject.  They  thought  that 
any  demonstration  from  England  would  offend  our  national 
prejudices,  and  so  embarrass  us,  even  in  the  Northern  States, 
with  all  the  dissensions  and  heart-burnings  which  former  er- 
rors and  strifes  have  bequeathed  to  the  Churches.  It  was 
finally  resolved,  I  think  wisely,  to  leave  this  American  ques- 
tion to  American  Christianity.  The  advocates  of  the  meas- 
ure acquiesced  cheerfully,  and  Dr.  Wardlaw,  with  others  of 
his  standing,  expressed  his  satisfaction  in  the  result.  This, 


306  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

if  any  thing,  will  be  the  rock  on  which  we  may  split  in  the 
United  States.  May  God  endow  us  all  with  the  spirit  of 
wisdom  and  love.  Whatever  measures  shall  be  taken,  I  am 
sure  it  will  be  well  that  they  originate  on  our  own  soil,  and 
not  in  a  foreign  and  a  rival  nation. 

I  beg  you  to  remember  me  to  Mrs.  Floy,  and  my  many  dear 
friends  in  Middletown.  Happy  shall  I  be  to  meet  you,  my 
dear  friend  and  brother,  at  my  own  home. 

Extract  from  Journal. 

Friday,  September  <±th.  Dined  with  Thomas  Farmer,  Esq., 
where  Mrs.  Olin  and  I  spent  the  night.  Drs.  Bunting  and 
Alder,  with  their  ladies,  were  of  the  party. 

Saturday,  5th.  Went  in  Mrs.  Farmer's  carriage  to  the  The- 
ological Seminary  at  Richmond ;  thence  to  see  Mrs.  Ralston, 
at  Barnes.  Got  to  London  ill,  and  was  confined  to  my  room 
till 

Thursday,  10th,  when  I  sailed  to  Ramsgate. 

Friday,  \\tli.  Went  to  Dover  in  company  with  Mr.  Ran- 
dall. Met  Dr.  Blackwell,  of  Dublin,  just  from  Belgium, 
where  he  has  been  to  witness  a  great  religious  movement. 
Many  hundred  Catholics  are  converted,  chiefly  through  the 
agency  of  colporteurs.  Dr.  Blackwell  attended  a  Bible  meet- 
ing with  two  hundred  of  these  converts,  and  a  school  of  more 
than  a  hundred  of  them. 

Saturday,  12th.  Returned  from  Ramsgate  to  London. 

Sunday,  13th.  Went  to  Dr.  Croly's  Church,  but  heard  his 
curate — a  thoughtful,  sound  man,  who  preached  rather  philo- 
sophically on  "  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life."  I  am 
more  and  more  impressed  with  the  general  inefficacy  of  the 
Church  service.  All  seems  formal  and  empty.  The  responses 
are  parrot-like,  the  reading  perfunctory,  and  all  quite  unlike 
spiritual  worship.*  I  say  only  that  so  it  seems  to  me.  I  am 

*  On  May  1st,  1830,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Milnor  writes :  "  Went  to  Saint 
Paul's  Cathedral.  The  evening  service  was  almost  entirely  chant- 


THE     ISLE     OF     WIGHT.  307 

sure  I  listen  with  a  will  to  be  edified  and  pleased  ;  but  at  the 
end  of  three  months,  in  which  I  have  attended  the  Episcopal 
Church  more  than  during  my  whole  life  before,  my  opinion 
of  the  service  is  less  favorable  than  ever.  I  doubt  not  it 
is  better  with  those  who  have  been  educated  in  this  way, 
but  I  must  think  the  Liturgical  service  inferior  to  the  freer 
worship  of  the  Dissenters.  Yet  I  can  not  sympathize  with 
much  I  hear  in  this  country  against  the  Established  Church. 
I  think  it  no  plain  question  whether  a  good  man  may  not,  on 
the  whole,  be  more  useful  in  it  than  any  where  else.  The 
Church  ministers  to  the  masses,  and  has  in  the  present,  and 
in  all  probable  states  of  public  sentiment,  very  great  advant- 
ages over  the  sects.  A  devoted,  self-denying  clergy  might 
do  much  to  revive  the  spirit  of  piety  in  the  Church,  and  then 
it  would  become  a  noble  instrument  for  good.  I  can  not  sat- 
isfy myself,  however,  that  even  the  tendency  is  in  the  right 
direction.  Bigotry  and  exclusiveness  seem  to  have  gained 
ground  since  my  last  visit  to  England.  Yet  so  long  as  the 
Establishment  has  such  men  as  Bickersteth,  Noel,  Ewbank, 
Stewart,  &c.,  it  must  command  respect.  My  own  opinions 
on  the  Church  are  a  little  staggered  by  the  confident  hopes 
and  filial  devotion  of  such  men.  May  God  multiply  them 
more  and  more  ! 

Tuesday,  15tk.  We  set  off  at  10  A.M.  for  Southampton, 
in  company  with  our  kind  hostess,  Mrs.  Randall,  and  Mr.  King. 

Wednesday,  16th.  We  circumnavigated  the  Isle  of  Wight 
in  a  steamer.  The  weather  was  fine  and  the  sea  smooth,  so 
that  I  believe  not  one  of  two  hundred  passengers  was  sea- 

ed.  Even  the  prayers  were  read  in  a  tone  resembling  recitative. 
There  was  very  little  solemnity  in  the  demeanor  of  the  performers, 
and  some  positive  levity  on  the  part  of  the  surpliced  boys.  The  con- 
gregation appeared  to  be  chiefly  composed  of  persons  who  had  come 
from  curiosity,  very  few  of  them  being  provided  with  prayer-books,  or 
appearing  to  take  any  interest  in  the  service.  I  never  attended  the 
duties  of  public  worship  with  less  edification  and  comfort  than  in  this 
magnificent  temple." 


308  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

sick.  We  had  many  interesting  views  of  the  island  as  well 
as  the  main  land,  near  Southampton  and  Portsmouth.  I 
formed  a  very  agreeable  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Scoresby,  eminent  as  a  man  of  science,  and  rector  of  a  parish 
in  Bradford,  Yorkshire.  Dr.  Scoresby  was  attending  the  Brit- 
ish Scientific  Association  in  Southampton,  before  which  he 
read  a  paper.  He  followed  the  seas  in  earlier  life,  and  be- 
came one  of  the  most  scientific  masters  in  the  Arctic  Sea. 
Late  in  life  he  entered  the  Church,  and  he  is,  I  must  pre- 
sume, a  serious  and  effective  clergyman.  He  has  lately  been 
in  the  United  States,  and  is  rich  in  liberal  and  philosophical 
observations  on  the  condition  and  prospects  of  that  country. 
Only  one  of  our  faults,  he  thinks,  has  been  exposed  by  En- 
glish travelers  without  exaggeration  —  that  of  spitting.  I 
agree  with  him  in  thinking  that  this  defies  exaggeration. 
Dr.  Scoresby  thinks  the  United  States  will  never  be  what 
it  ought  without  an  established  Church,  though  he  augurs 
favorably,  on  the  whole.  Like  most  Englishmen,  he  pre- 
fers Boston  to  all  our  cities,  and  New  England  to  all  other 
portions  of  our  country.  Dr.  Scoresby  seems  to  me  to  unite 
in  an  uncommon  degree  the  advantages  of  great  practical 
and  scientific  attainments — much  knowledge  of  the  world, 
and  true  piety  and  philanthropy.  I  was  delighted  with  our 
transient  acquaintance.  May  he  be  a  blessing  to  many  in 
his  high  vocation ! 

Thursday,  17th.  We  visited  the  remains  of  Netley  Abbey, 
three  miles  from  Southampton,  a  noble  monument  of  the 
Gothic  style  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The  arches  and  walls  are 
nearly  entire,  though  the  roof  has  long  since  fallen,  and  for- 
est trees,  two  or  three  feet  in  diameter,  grow  within  it.  We 
afterward  rode  through  the  beautiful  town  of  Southampton, 
and  then  went  by  steamer  to  Ryde. 

Friday,  18th.  We  visited  Brading,  the  parish  of  Legh 
Richmond.  Saw  the  cottage  and  the  grave  of  "  Little  Jane," 
and  the  cottage  and  grave,  also,  of  "  the  Dairyman's  Daugh- 


LAUNCH  OP  THE  JOHN  WESLEY.    309 

ter."  We  had  occasion  to  admire  the  wonderful  truth  of 
Richmond's  descriptions  of  scenery.  The  Dairyman's  cot- 
tage and  little  farm  of  five  acres  now  belong  to  his  grand- 
son, who  has  a  family  of  children.  They  still  keep  two 
cows,  and  are  dairymen,  like  the  older  ones.  They  go  to  the 
church,  though  the  daughter,  Elizabeth  Wallbridge,  was  a 
Wesleyan.  A  small  Wesleyan  chapel  stands  within  thirty 
yards  of  the  cottage,  where,  as  I  learned  from  Miss  Wall- 
bridge,  most  of  the  religious  people  worship,  the  clergyman 
of  Arreton  not  being  of  the  serious  class.  He  is  to  hold  the 
living  for  ten  years  only,  till  the  son  of  the  patron,  Squire 
Fleming,  now  at  school,  shall  be  ready  to  take  it. 

Dr.  Olin's  last  interview  with  his  Wesleyan  brethren 
was  at  Cowes,  on  the  20th  of  September,  on  an  occa- 
sion of  great  interest — the  launching  of  the  John  Wes- 
ley— the  first  ship  built  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  the 
Grospel  of  peace  to  heathen  lands,  and  of  providing  the 
means  of  intercommunication  between  missionary  sta- 
tions. Dr.  Olin  was  present  in  the  chapel,  though  not 
able  to  take  any  part  in  the  public  services,  as  he  was 
requested  to  do.  A  sermon  was  preached,  the  vessel 
launched,  and  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  invited 
guests  of  the  missionary  committee  sat  down  to  a  lunch, 
where  those  whose  hearty  sympathies  and  active  efforts 
had  been  enlisted  in  the  enterprise  rejoiced  together 
over  the  happy  results  to  which  their  labors  had  been 
brought.  At  the  close  of  this  feast,  Dr.  Olin  received 
and  responded  to  the  kind  wishes  and  prayers  of  his 
brethren  for  a  safe  and  prosperous  voyage.  • 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Beecham  was  present  at  this  time. 
We  quote  again  from  his  letter  to  Mrs.  Olin : 

"An  occasion  was,  however,  afforded  for  becoming  better 
acquainted  with  Dr.  Olin  in  the  summer  of  1846,  when,  in 


310  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

company  with  yourself,  he  visited  London  again  as  one  of  a 
deputation,  to  the  Conference  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance. 
On  that  visit,  my  former  estimate  of  his  worth  was  amply 
confirmed,  and  my  affectionate  regard  for  him  was  increased, 
while  he  considerably  extended  the  sphere  of  his  acquaint- 
ance in  England,  and  became  more  extensively  and  advant- 
ageously known  in  our  religious  circles.  He  did  not  attract 
by  showy  pretensions  or  affected  singularity,  but  the  intrinsic 
excellences  of  his  character  won  for  him  esteem.  Several 
interesting  occasions  at  that  time  occurred  for  Christian  and 
social  intercourse.  One  of  these,*  when  citizens  of  different 
countries  discoursed  on  topics  of  common  interest,  and  inter- 
changed expressions  of  friendly  regard,  is  invested  in  my  rec- 
ollection with  a  mournful  interest,  by  the  fact  that  three  of 
our  American  visitants  then  present — your  own  dear  Olin, 
Emory  (whom  I  also  sincerely  loved),  and  the  estimable 
C  aid  well — are  all  now  numbered  with  the  silent*  dead.  Al- 
ready are  they  gone  to  join  in  the  more  exalted  converse  of 
the  skies  ! 

"  In  his  public  character,  Dr.  Olin  on  this  visit  fully  sustain- 
ed the  favorable  impression  which  he  made  in  private  inter- 
course. In  the  Conference  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  he 
distinguished  himself  by  his  ability  and  truly  catholic  spirit, 
and  none  of  the  deputies  from  the  United  States  made  a  more 
advantageous  representation  of  the  American  character  than 
himself.  His  open,  manly  bearing,  and  the  heartiness  with 
which  he  appeared  to  throw  himself  into  his  subject,  espe- 
cially recommended  him  to  his  English  auditors.  In  his  pul- 
pit ministrations,  moreover,  he  showed  himself  to  be  the  pow- 
erful preacher  of  the  Gospel.  I  heard  him  once  on  a  Sun- 
day morning,  at  the  City-road  Chapel,  when  he  delivered  a 
discourse  which  displayed  so  much  intellectual  vigor,  was  so 
full  of  rich  evangelical  truth,  and  was  pressed  home  upon  the 

*  A  public  breakfast,  given  by  the  Wesleyan  missionary  secretaries 
at  Centenary  Hall. 


HOMEWARD    VOYAGE.  311 

conscience  with  so  much  fervor  of  spirit,  and  accompanied 
with  such  a  gracious  influence  from  above,  that  several  were 
led  afterward  to  express  the  hope  that  an  opportunity  might 
be  providentially  afforded  for  him  to  advocate  the  great  cause 
of  Christian  missions,  in  connection  with  the  anniversary  of 
our  own  Missionary  Society,  which  is  one  of  the  series  of  re- 
ligious anniversaries  known  in  England  as  our  '  May  meet- 
ings.' But  this  hope,  with  many  others  which  had  been  in- 
dulged with  reference  to  the  important  services  which  he 
might  be  permitted  to  render  in  future  years,  is  now  extin- 
guished, and  the  faithful  servant  has  been  called  to  his  etern- 
al reward. 

"  Wesleyan  Mission  House,  London,  Oct.  28th,  1852." 

A  head  wind  of  twenty  days  made  the  homeward  voy- 
age in  the  Prince  Albert  a  boisterous  one,  and  length- 
ened it  out  to  thirty-five  days.  Dr.  Olin  probably  felt 
the  tedium  less  than  any  of  the  passengers.  He  spent 
his  days  on  deck,  wliich  he  paced  for  hours,  drinking 
in  the  invigorating  influences  of  sea  air,  while  the  mo- 
notony of  sea-life  was  most  agreeably  enlivened  by  con- 
genial society.  Seven  clergymen  returning  from  the 
Evangelical  Alliance  were  on  board,  and  there  was  no 
lack  of  common  objects  of  interest  to  give  life  and  va- 
riety to  the  conversation.  With  these  Christian  breth- 
ren, among  whom  were  the  Rev.  Dr.  Erskine  Mason, 
of  New  York  ;  the  Rev.  Mr.  Humphrey,  of  Louisville ; 
the  Rev.  Drs.  Green  and  Ryerson,  of  Canada  ;  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Merwin,  of  New  York  ;  and  Professor  Caldwell,  of 
Dickinson  College,  Carlisle,  Dr.  Olin  spent  many  pleas- 
ant and  profitable  hours.  There  was  daily  evening 
prayer  in  the  cabin,  each  minister  officiating  in  his 
turn,  and  a  service  and  sermon  on  the  Sabbath.  Dr. 
Olin  listened  with  a  lively  satisfaction  to  Dr.  Mason's 


312  LIFE      AND     LETTERS. 

discourse  on  "We  are  saved  by  hope,"  which,  he  said, 
was  a  model  of  style  for  the  pulpit.  The  preacher  and 
two  of  the  little  company  to  whom  he  spoke  of  immor- 
tality and  eternal  life  have  gone  to  prove  the  perfect 
blessedness  of  that  salvation  of  which  they  retained  the 
full  assurance  of  hope  unto  the  end.* 

The  few  letters  he  wrote  after  his  return  home  this 
year  are  principally  on  the  subject  of  the  Evangelical 
Alliance,  in  the  formation  of  which  he  had  embarked 
so  much  hope  and  expectation,  and  the  failure  of  which 
in  this  country  he  much  regretted. 

Letters  written  in  the  Autumn  of  1846. 

CXI VIII.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  Nov.  12th,  1846. 
I  feel  an  habitual  solicitude  in.  regard  to  you 
— less  intense,  perhaps,  but  more  constant — from  the  fact  that 
I  always  accustom  myself  to  look  upon  your  life  as  especially 
precarious.  Indeed,  the  instances  of  mortality  in  our  family 
circle  have  of  late  been  so  frequent  that  our  ears  are  open 
for  bad  tidings.  How  blessed  the  alleviation  afforded  by  the 
presumed  piety  of  those  who  have  been  removed,  and  those 
whose  delicate  state  of  health  awakens  so  many  and  constant 
anxieties I  trust  that  you  have  yet  many  years 

*  The  words  of  Addison,  "  Come  and  see  how  a  Christian  can  die !" 
could  never  have  been  uttered  with  greater  significance  than  from  the 
dying  bed  of  Professor  Caldwell.  Tuesday,  June  6th,  he  said  to  his 
mother,  "  Mother,  I  have  no  temptation  to  murmuring  or  impatience, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  I  feel  that  heavenly  breezes  are  passing  over 
me."  ....  Afterward  he  said,  "  This  is  not  death,  it  is  the  con- 
summation of  life ;  a  little  while,  and  it  will  be  eternal  life,  everlasting 
life."  ....  Feebly  grasping  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Caldwell,  he  said, 
"  Farewell !  my  dear  wife.  Glory  to  Jesus  !  Jesus,  my  life  !  Jesus, 
my  trust !  Jesus  !  Jesus  !"  Thus  he  fell  asleep  in  Jesus,  on  the  6th 
of  June,  1847,  about  2  o'clock  P.M.,  repeating  that  blessed  name. 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  313 

of  life — years  which  are,  indeed,  likely  to  be  wearisome,  but 
which  your  habitual  cheerfulness,  your  happy  views  of  life, 
and,  above  all,  your  lively  faith  in  the  Gospel,  may  render 
very  comfortable.  It  seems  to  me  not  a  little  remarkable 
that,  with  so  many  infirmities  and  so  little  sound  health,  our 
family  prove  so  tenacious  of  life.  For  six  or  eight  months 
previous  to  June  last,  my  health  was  exceedingly  precarious, 
or,  rather,  I  was  almost  constantly  prostrate,  and  contem- 
plated the  abandonment  of  my  position  here  as  near  and  all 
but  unavoidable.  As  you  know,  I  sailed  for  Europe  on  the 
first  day  of  June,  and  spent  four  months  on  the  Continent 
and  in  England.  During  this  period  I  was  not  indisposed 
above  four  days,  and  I  have  returned  to  my  post  in  health, 
apparently  greatly  improved.  I  dare  not  trust  to  the  future, 
and  yet,  for  aught  that  I  am  able  to  see,  my  prospect  is  de- 
cidedly favorable.  I  need  to  use  the  utmost  care,  especially 
in  regard  to  preaching,  which  I  fear  I  shall  be  compelled  to 
give  up.  This  is  a  great  sacrifice,  and  very  difficult  to  be 
made,  as  I  have  incessant  calls  from  different  and  distant 
quarters.  For  the  present,  at  least,  I  must  decline  them  all, 
waiting  to  see  how  my  health  will  bear  a  return  to  profes- 
sional life. 

You  have  no  doubt  followed  the  Evangelical  Alliance  in 
its  progress  with  interest,  lively  in  proportion  to  your  large 
liberality.  It  was  to  me  a  deeply  interesting  season,  though 
full  of  anxiety  and  labor.  It  was  a  noble  gathering  of  able 
and  godly  men,  such  as,  perhaps,  has  never  been  seen  before, 
and  may  not  occur  again,  if  ever,  for  some  generations.  I 
entertain  the  most  favorable  anticipations,  not,  indeed,  whol- 
ly unmixed  with  fear,  in  regard  to  its  beneficial  influences 
upon  the  Churches.  I  am  sure  Divine  providence  has  indi- 
cated the  way  for  securing  large  and  permanent  blessings, 
and  it  will  be  our  own  fault  if  they  are  permitted  to  slip  out 
of  our  grasp.  The  ultra-abolitionists  attempted  to  force  their 
narrow,  disorganizing  views  upon  us,  and  would  have  ruined 
II.  0 


314  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

every  thing.  The  firmness  of  several  of  the  American  dele- 
gates, in  spite  of  the  infirmities  of  others  not  less  conspicuous, 
triumphed  over  great  difficulties  and  great  dangers,  and  we 
have  brought  back  with  us  for  the  Churches  a  truly  catholic 
plan,  which  it  will  be  their  own  fault  if  they  mar  or  vitiate 
with  any  infusion  of  exclusiveness  or  intolerance.  May  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church  direct  the  enterprise  through  all 
difficulties  to  a  glorious  consummation.  "We  American 
Churches,  and  especially  Methodists,  greatly  need  some  such 
healing  influence  as  the  Evangelical  Alliance  ought  to  exert, 

CXLIX.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK 
(On  the  death  of  his  child). 

Middletown,  Nov.  23d,  1846. 

I  can  not  tell  you  how  happy  I  should  have  been  to  see 
you  when  you  were  so  near  me  last  week.  Still,  the  griev- 
ous affliction  under  which  you  labored  would  have  been  a 
great  drawback  upon  the  pleasure  of  such  a  meeting.  I 
sympathize  with  you  very  deeply,  but  I  fear  I  have  less  wis- 
dom in  giving  counsel  and  consolation  to  such  sufferers  than 
most  other  men  have.  I  can  find  little  to  say  to  a  Christian 
bereaved  of  near  relatives.  It  is  so  distinctly  God's  hand 
that  is  upon  him,  that  I  can  do  little  more  than  pray  and 
keep  silence.  You  know  well  where  to  go  for  consolation, 
and  all  attempts  to  intermeddle  with  this  high  prerogative 
are  little  better  than  mockery.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me 
that  the  loss  of  children — I  mean  infants — has  many  allevi- 
ations available  as  soon  as  we  get  over  the  shock  which  our 
selfishness  feels  so  keenly.  First,  there  is  the  philosophical 
view  that,  in  a  world  of  mixed  elements,  they  are  exposed  to 
as  much  evil  as  good,  and  are  not  greatly  the  losers  by  an 
early  removal.  Then  comes  the  Christian  view,  which  teach- 
es us  to  rejoice  in  their  exemption  from  all  the  dangers  of  a 
long  probation.  They  have  their  moral  training,  not  among 
wicked  men,  but  with  the  angels — not  in  a  world  of  trial 


OLD     FRIENDS.  315 


and  strife,  but  in  the  kingdom  of  glory,  where  they  are  secure 
against  lapses  and  miscarriages,  and  where,  for  aught  we  can 
see,  they  have  a  very  favorable  soil  for  culture  and  expansion. 
Such  considerations  become  available  and  powerful  just  in 
proportion  to  the  strength  of  our  faith,  and  they  become  suf- 
ficient for  the  exigency  just  as  soon  as  we  have  submitted  to 
the  Christian  lesson  which  God  certainly  intends  to  inculcate 
by  such  dispensations.  May  our  compassionate  Savior  give 
to  you  and  Mrs.  M'Clintock  in  your  sorrows  all  the  supports 
in  which  His  blessed  system  is  so  opulent.  Sorrow  for  a 
season  you  will  certainly  have.  May  it  be  sanctified  sorrow, 
which  in  the  end,  and  in  its  own  way,  enriches  with  the 

peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness 

Have  the  kindness  to  remember  me  to  your  colleagues,  and 
especially  to  my  fellow-pilgrims,  Dr.  Emory  and  Professor 
Caldwell.  I  esteem  myself  to  have  been  very  fortunate  in 
forming  with  them  so  intimate  an  acquaintance. 

CL.  TO  THE  REV.  SEYMOUR  LANDON. 

Middletown,  November  24th,  1846. 

It  was  a  high  gratification,  as  well  as  unexpected,  to  meet 
you  in  New  York  the  day  after  I  landed.  You  will  never 
know  till  you  have  been  absent,  not  from  your  home  merely, 
but  from  your  country,  how  delightful  it  is  to  meet  with  those 
you  have  been  accustomed  to  know  and  to  love  from  youth 
onward.  You  soon  form  attachments  of  a  certain  kind,  and 
to  a  certain  extent,  in  a  foreign  land.  You  are  compelled  to 
do  this,  to  counteract  the  loneliness  of  your  sojourn,  which 
else  becomes  a  positive,  intolerable  burden  ;  but  these  attach- 
ments are  quite  another  thing  from  those  which  you  form  at 
home.  You  can  not  feel  quite  safe  in  bestowing  confidence 
upon  foreigners,  strange  in  many  of  their  habits,  tastes,  and 
perhaps  in  their  language.  You  may  imagine  that  you  have 
fully  let  them  into  your  sympathies  and  confidence,  and  that 
your  are  admitted  into  theirs — that  you  are  naturalized  in 


316  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

foreign  hearts ;  but  the  illusion  vanishes  as  soon  as  you  step 
upon  your  native  shores,  and  feel  the  grasp  of  some  old,  tried 
friend.  You  may  think  this  no  very  sound  philosophy  if  you 
please,  but  you  need  not  try  to  convince  me  that  my  pulse 
did  not  beat  quicker  on  the  occasion  referred  to.  Why,  my 
dear  sir,  it  is  time  for  you  to  recollect  that  we  are  old  friends 
— have  grown  gray  together — that  our  friendship  has  with- 
stood the  cold  of  twenty  odd  winters,  and  the  fervid  heat  of 
twenty  odd  summers — that  children,  born  since  it  was  com- 
menced, are  now  fathers  and  mothers  ;  what  is  more  than 
time,  or  white  heads,  or  heat,  or  cold — that  it  has  braved  no 
slight  discrepancies  in  opinion  and  action,  and  this  on  subjects 
that  have  proved  exciting,  even  maddening  to  many  good  men. 
I  flatter  myself  that  there  are  some  very  strong  affinities  at 
bottom,  which,  having  held  us  together  so  long,  and  through 
thick  and  thin,  are  destined  to  be  enduring.  May  God  grant 
this  in  his  great  mercy  ! 

I  find  myself  quite  as  well  as  I  hoped  when  I  landed.  I 
had  to  pass  through  a  crisis  in  getting  seasoned  to  life  on 
shore,  and  I  came  very  near  sinking,  a  day  or  two  after  reach- 
ing this  place,  but  since  that  time  I  feel  quite  as  well  as  I 
have  done  any  time  within  the  last  few  years.  I  am  trying 
to  fall  into  a  course  of  exercise  which  I  have  formerly  neg- 
lected too  much.  I  resolve  to  ride  on  horseback  an  hour  or 
more  every  fair  day,  and  I  mostly  keep  my  purpose.  In  ad- 
dition to  this  new  piece  of  discretion,  I  decline  preaching  al- 
together, and  this  I  hold  myself  pledged  to  do  for  a  long  time 
to  come.  I  hope,  with  God's  blessing  upon  these  and  other 
prudential  means,  to  maintain  sufficient  health  to  do  my  du- 
ties here  after  a  sort.  Still,  I  feel  that  this  is  an  experiment 
on  which  my  future  course  must  essentially  depend.  I  can 
not  hold  my  place  through  another  such  a  season  of  infirmity 
and  trial  as  were  the  eight  months  that  preceded  my  voyage 
to  Europe.  I  can  not  wholly  divest  myself  of  anxiety  in  re- 
gard to  the  future,  but  I  try  to  cast  the  whole  matter  upon 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  317 

God  my  Savior,  who  cares  for  me  much  above  my  deserts, 
and  for  the  university  much  more  than  I  can. 

I  have  been  able  to  go  to  church  once  each  Sabbath  since 
I  saw  you,  and  so  have  heard  brother  Floy  three  times.  Why 
did  you  never  tell  me  that  he  is  one  of  our  best  preachers  ? 
Every  body,  I  believe,  is  highly  -pleased.  His  sermons  are 
excellent  for  manner,  matter,  and  spirit.  They  are  pervaded 
by  a  delightful  tone  of  piety  ;  they  are  eminently  clear  and 
practical.  I  think  Floy  is  to  be  a  great  blessing  to  us  all, 
and  I  esteem  it  a  privilege  to  enjoy  his  preaching  and  his 
society. 

CLI.  TO  THE  REV.  ABEL  STEVENS 
(On  the  Evangelical  Alliance). 

I  take  the  opportunity  offered  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pierce  to 
send  you  my  fraternal  salutations.  I  was  truly  glad  to  learn 
from  him  that  your  health  is  now  better  than  for  some  years 
before,  and  that,  in  addition  to  your  editorial  labors,  you  are 
able  to  preach  every  Sunday.  This  is  a  great  attainment, 
and  more,  I  presume,  than  for  many  years  you  ventured  to 
expect.  May  it  prove  but  the  beginning  of  good  days — only 
a  foretaste  of  the  good  fruit  you  are  destined  to  bring  forth 
to  the  glory  of  our  glorious  Master.  I  envy  none  but  those 
who  have  strong  health  to  consecrate  to  the  service  of  Him 
who  has  purchased  us  with  his  precious  blood.  And  yet  He 
knows  full  well  to  take  the  will  for  the^  deed  when  He  sees 
the  will  to  be  right. 

I  have  come  home,  through  the  Divine  mercy,  improved  in 
health — I  hope  decidedly  and  permanently  improved.  But 
this  remains  to  be  tested  by  time  and  experience,  to  which  I 
hold  myself  pledged  to  advance  with  unusual  caution.  I  may 
not  indulge  in  too  favorable  anticipations.  I  will  rather  re- 
joice that  you  and  so  many  other  younger  men  have  been 
raised  up  to  serve  the  Church  and  its  Lord  better,  far  better, 
than  I  have  been  able  to  do.  May  God  spare  you  long,  and 


318  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

make  you  a  chosen  instrument  for  good  to  many  souls.  1 
should  be  very  glad  to  see  you  and  your  wife.  Why  not  come 
and  see  us  here  ?  Julia  would  be  truly  happy  to  have  you 
and  her  with  us.  We  shall  have  leisure  to  see  you  this  win- 
ter. You  may  send  on  your  editorials  by  mail.  I  think  you 
might  show  us  that  you  care  so  much  for  your  friends,  of 
whom  you  have  not  many  who  care  more  for  you  than  we 
do — meaning  by  you,  both  of  you. 

I  have  not  seen  the  Zion's  Herald,  though  I  sent  a  note  to 
brother  Rand  requesting  that  it  may  be  sent  here  again,  as 
before  my  absence.  I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  go  for  the 
Alliance  totis  viribus.  I  have  feared  that  many  of  our 
Northern  Methodists  might  be  led  away  from  the  true  ground 
of  the  Alliance  through  their  anti-slavery  sentiments,  modi- 
fied as  that  class  of  questions  now  is  by  our  Church  difficul- 
ties. Now,  if  I  know  my  own  heart,  I  would  go  as  far  as 
any  body  in  the  world  to  counterwork  that  detestable  sys- 
tem, if  some  one  could  only  show  me  how  it  may  be  done.  I 
would  gladly  sacrifice  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  and  a  thou- 
sand alliances,  for  its  removal ;  but  I  am  frank  to  say  that  I 
do  not  see  how  this  great  object  can  be  forwarded  at  all  by 
attempting  to  complicate  our  plans  for  Christian  union  with 
it.  We  can  easily  thwart  the  Alliance,  but  not,  that  I  can. 
perceive,  promote  the  cause  of  human  liberty. 

You  occupy  a  highly  influential  position  in  regard  to  this 
question.  I  think  you  may,  perhaps  must,  have  more  to  do 
in  the  premises  than  any  other  man  in  our  ranks.  Allow  me 
to  inquire  of  you  what  are  your  views  on  this  point  ?  I  real- 
ly want  information  as  to  what  is  thought  about  you  and  by 
you  ;  for  on  this  depends  very  much  what  can  be  done,  and 
what  ought  to  be  attempted.  I  freely  state  to  you  how  the 
matter  strikes  rne,  assuring  you,  at  the  same  time,  that  I  need 
information  which  I  now  seek  for  maturing  my  opinions,  and 
etill  more  my  purposes.  My  expectation  is,  that  many  will 
think  it  riefht  to  exclude  slaveholders.  So  far  as  I  can  see 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  319 

the  ground  at  present,  I  incline  to  the  opinion  that  no  alli- 
ance can  be  had  on  this  basis. 

I.  I  mean  no  enlargement  of  Christian  union  is  thus  attain- 
able.    It  would  be  quite  easy  to  extend  greatly  abolition  as- 
sociations under  the  benefit  of  the  Alliance  movement,  and 
I  am  a  good  deal  inclined  to  anticipate  this  as  the  chief  re- 
sult, whether  for  good  or  evil ;  but  my  idea  is,  that  on  this 
basis  no  extension  of  Christian  union  is  to  be  had.    Think  of 
the  attitude  of  the  Churches.     As  Methodists,  our  Discipline 
admits  the  right  of  slaveholders  to  our  communion ;  and  to 
contend  for  an  alliance  more  stringent  and  pure  than  the 
Church,  would  be  to  stigmatize  the  Church  as  corrupt.     Par- 
ty heat  may  lead  many  into  this  suicidal  position,  but  not,  I 
think,  the  denomination.     Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  &c.,  with 
their  slaveholding  members,  who  just  now  demand  especial 
sympathy,  could  not,  I  think,  be  of  such  an  alliance.     As 
Methodists,  can  we  consistently  go  into  such  an  alliance  ? 
Should  we  not  thus  admit  all  that  Mr.  Scott  has  charged 
upon  us  ?     I  am  unable  to  take  any  other  view  of  this  sub- 
ject.    "VVe  can  not  go  for  an  alliance  purer  than  our  Church 
till  we  conform  that  to  a  higher  morality. 

II.  The  denominations  represented  in  the  American  Board 
of  Foreign  Missions  are  committed,  as  you  know,  to  the  mod- 
erate view,  and  can  not  exclude  slaveholders  from  the  Alli- 
ance so  long  as  they  co-operate  with  them  in  missions.     This 
embraces  Congregationalists  and  New  School  Presbyterians, 
The  Old  School,  as  you  know,  is  fully  committed  against  ul- 
tra-abolitionism, and  would  certainly  refuse  such  a  coalition. 
I  will  add,  that  every  member  of  these  denominations  in  Lon- 
don concurred  in  the  opinions  I  have  expressed  as  likely  to  be 
the  position  of  their  Churches.     They  said  there  would  be  ex- 
ceptions in  New  England,  Western  New  York,  and  in  Ohio, 
including,  however,  only  small  fractions  of  their  people.     The 
Baptists  are  not  committed,  I.believe,  but  I  arn  not  aware 
that  they  have  shown  any  strong  affinities  for  this  union 


320  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

movement.  The  Free-will  Baptists,  too,  and  the  Wesleyans, 
are  likely  to  favor  the  exclusion  ;  and  these,  with  such  Meth- 
odists as  might  go  that  way,  together  with  the  fragments  of 
other  sects  above  indicated,  will  constitute  the  only  alliance 
that  can  be  made  on  the  proposed  basis.  I  am  ready  to  ad- 
mit that  all  these  may  constitute  a  large  body  of  excellent 
men,  who,  united,  may  become  potent  against  slavery ;  but 
can  they  form  an  evangelical  alliance  competent  to  the  ends 
sought  in  this  enterprise  ?  So  far  from  it,  just  in  proportion 
as  this  movement  shall  prosper,  will  it  constitute  a  new  par- 
ty, against  which  the  body  of  the  great  denominations,  who 
sought  to  be  united  for  Christ's  glory,  will  become  antagonists. 
Past  experience  has  left  no  doubt  on  this  subject.  Under 
these  circumstances,  what  shall  be  done  ?  An  alliance,  to 
be  any  thing  more  than  a  by-word,  must  be  general — must 
comprehend  the  body  of  the  evangelical  sects  ;  else  it  will 
itself  be  only  a  sect — a  divider  and  sword — not  the  harbinger 
of  peace.  If  such  an  alliance  can  not  be  formed  on  the  ex- 
clusive basis,  can  it  on  the  conservative  ?  If  not,  then  the 
attempt  ought  not  to  be  made  here.  It  is  an  indication  of 
Providence  to  forbear.  Let  as  many  of  us  as  think  we  can 
promote  the  glory  of  God  or  the  welfare  of  man,  by  entering 
into  associations  for  other  purposes,  do  so ;  but  by  no  means 
engage  in  a  work  nominally  for  the  promotion  of  union,  but 
which  can  only  result  in  dissension  and  discomfiture. 

CLII.  TO  THE  SAME. 

Middletown,  Dec.  5,  1846. 

I  am,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  deeply  interested  in  the 
main  topic  of  the  letters  which  have  passed  between  us  re- 
cently. From  the  first  mention  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance 
I  hailed  it  enthusiastically  as  a  movement  likely,  if  well  sus- 
tained, to  be  highly  auspicious  to  the  interests  of  Christ's 
kingdom.  I  was  providentially  led  to  take  an  active  part 
in  the  enterprise,  and  to  it  I  have  made  offerings  of  feeling 


THE    EVANGELICAL    ALLIANCE.  321 


and  money,  which  I  shall  certainly  never  regret,  but  which 
justify  on  my  part  a  special  solicitude  that  the  opening  pros- 
pect should  not  be  blighted  by  any  obstacles  not  insurmount- 
able. Till  my  attendance  on  the  great  London  meeting,  I 
had  no  conception  of  the  difficulties  to  be  encountered,  and 
of  the  amazing  number  and  delicacy  of  the  points  involved 
in  such  an  attempt.  I  was  filled  with  admiration  at  the  wis- 
dom, patience,  and  perseverance  with  which  British  Chris- 
tians had  struggled  against  the  hydra  forms  of  opposition 
from  Churchmen  and  Dissenters,  Quakers  and  Unitarians, 
worldlings  and  infidels,  politicians  and  Papists,  and,  most  of 
all,  from  fearful,  narrow-minded  good  men.  Their  triumph 
over  all  opposition  was  wonderful,  and  even  miraculous,  if 
the  indisputable  interference  of  God's  providence  is  to  be  re- 
garded such.  After  all  that  has  occurred,  much  of  which  I 
have  witnessed,  I  have  strong  feelings  on  the  subject,  and  I 
think  it  highly  incumbent  on  the  Churches  to  carry  out  this 
enterprise  in  America.  I  think  they  will  be  guilty,  in  God's 
view,  if  they  thwart  it — if  the  bitterness  or  the  littleness  of 
our  controversies  shall  spoil  such  sanctified  beginnings.  The 
question  which  has  been  started  in  connection  with  the  move- 
ment does  unquestionably  bring  into  it  the  most  serious  ob- 
stacles. I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  fear  our  imperfections 
will  make  them  insuperable. 

I  see  you  placed  in  a  position  of  peculiar  difiiculty  in  ref- 
erence to  this  question,  as  you  have  often  been  in  reference 
to  others  of  vital  importance  to  the  Church.  I  do  you  the 
justice  to  say  that  I  think  you  have,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, acquitted  yourself  very  satisfactorily,  and  always,  I 
am  sure,  conscientiously.  I  do  not  believe  you  have  been 
called  upon  to  meet  a  higher  or  a  more  difficult  responsibility 
than  the  one  which  now  impends  over  you.  You  are  so  kind 
as  to  allow  me  to  express  my  opinions  freely.  I  know  you 
will  not  suspect  rne  of  wishing  to  embarrass  your  difficult 
course  or  to  offer  my  sentiments  in  any  but  the  most  respect- 
02 


322  LIFE     ANDLETTERS. 

ful  and  conciliating  spirit.  I  am  very  anxious  that  you 
should  take  your  ground  wisely  and  considerately,  that  you 
may  be  able  to  maintain  it  kindly  and  firmly.  Let  me  be- 
gin by  beseeching  you  not  to  allow  any  writers  in  the  Herald 
to  outrage  charity  and  Christian  propriety,  as  did  the  "  New 
England  Minister"  in  the  last  Herald  but  one.  He  accuses 
us  delegates  to  London  of  bowing  to  "the  shrines  of  Mammon 
and  Fame."  Now  you  think  we  acted  right  in  this  trying 
crisis  :  he,  that  we  have  shown  ourselves  the  most  corrupt  of 
men.  Cui  bono?  God  is  our  judge.  Are  we  to  have  re- 
peated, on  this  holy  subject,  the  terrible,  unscrupulous  vio- 
lence of  evil  days  that  are  past  ?  God  forbid.  I  am  not 
personally  sensitive  ;  but,  for  the  sake  of  the  Church  and  of 
Christ,  this  must  not  be.  Do,  my  dear  brother,  blot  out  ev- 
ery sentiment  and  word,  no  matter  who  writes  it,  that  savors 
of  this  unhallowed  temper. 

Three  ways  have  been  spoken  of  as  likely  to  be  followed 
out  in  the  organization  of  our  Alliance.  1.  We  may  adopt 
the  basis  of  the  London  Alliance,  which  contains  no  reference 
to  slavery.  2.  We  may  adopt  this  with  Mr.  Hinton's  amend- 
ment, which  excludes  all  slaveholders.  3.  We  -may  adopt 
the  London  Alliance  basis,  with  the  addition  of  an  article 
tantamount  to  that  anti-slavery  doctrine  of  the  discipline  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  The  first  method  would 
have  been  preferred,  I  am  sure,  by  a  large  majority  of  the 
London  Alliance.  Had  we  insisted  on  a  direct  vote,  Hinton's 
amendment  would  have  been  rejected  by  the  multitude  of 
voices.  It  was  disliked  as  an  interference  with  civil  and  po- 
litical questions,  as  imposing  a  test  not  doctrinal,  which  vio- 
lated a  first  principle  of  the  Alliance,  and  as  pretending  to 
greater  strictness  than  the  Churches  had  ever  done,  &c.,  &c. 
All  the  Continentals,  all  the  Churchmen,  most  of  the  Wes- 
leyans,  and  most  of  the  Scotch  delegates,  I  have  good  reason 
to  believe,  were  hostile  to  Hinton's  plan — hostile  in  princi- 
ple as  well  as  to  its  aspects  upon  us.  To  have  rejected  the 


THE    EVANGELICAL    ALLIANCE.  323 

plan,  however,  would  have  been  to  insure  a  respectable  se- 
cession and  an  active,  influential,  exciting  opposition,  which 
would  soon  have  extended  itself  through  the  kingdom.  This 
might  have  been  met  successfully,  but  it  might  have  made 
the  expansion  of  the  Alliance  impossible.  It  was  thought 
best,  therefore,  to  concede  just  as  far  as  Americans  thought 
could  be  done  without  ruin  to  the  cause  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  I  know  your  opinion  on  this  basis  in  which  slav- 
ery is  not  mentioned.  A  great  many  individuals,  and  per- 
haps some  entire  denominations,  would  not  join  the  Alliance 
on  such  terms.  This  is  a  great  practical  objection.  Another, 
of  no  little  weight,  is  this  :  our  American  is  to  be  reviewed 
by  all  the  other  branches,  and  British  Christians  would  have 
the  same  difficulty  in  the  case  as  that  which  the  Alliance 
struggled  with  and  postponed  in  another  form. 

Is  the  second  suggestion  less  beset  with  objections  ?  1 
think  not.  Nearly  every  American  in  London  held  it  to  be 
impossible  to  form  an  alliance  here  on  this  basis.  I  stated 
in  my  last  in  what  way  Presbyterians  of  both  schools,  and 
the  body  of  Congregationalists,  have  committed  themselves 
on  this  point.  The  whole  world  knows  our  doctrine  as  a 
Church,  and  that  we  recognize  the  right  of  slaveholders  to  the 
Christian  character  on  specified  conditions.  I  will  not  af- 
firm that  a  great  alliance  can  not  be  had  on  this  basis,  but 
this  can  only  be  after  much  agitation.  The  Churches  are 
not  now  prepared  for  this,  and  any  alliance  so  formed  would 
not  be  for  Christian  unity  chiefly,  but  against  a  certain  evil. 
This  might  do  much  good,  but  not  the  good  which  it  is  our 
avowed  object  to  seek  in  this  enterprise.  In  short,  I  do  not 
believe  we  can  move  in  this  direction,  and  would,  on  the 
score  of  practicability  alone,  think  it  better  far  to  allow  the 
movement  to  stop  where  it  is,  than  to  attempt  to  prosecute  it 
on  such  hopeless  conditions.  The  inference  is  plain,  that  I 
think  those  who  object  to  the  simpler  basis,  which  says  noth- 
ing of  slavery,  and  who  still  resolve  to  go  on  with  the  alii- 


324  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

ance,  are  fairly  shut  up  to  some  modification  of  the  third  prop- 
osition, which  substantially  adopts  the  doctrine  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church  on  this  most  unmanageable  subject. 
I  understand  you  to  favor  such  a  basis,  and  on  this  point  I 
beg  to  offer  a  few  suggestions.  If  the  adoption  of  such  a  ba- 
sis should,  as  you  expect,  shut  out  our  slaveholding  breth- 
ren, they  could  hardly  complain  of  it  as  a  grievance  while 
they  recognize  the  same  condition  in  the  discipline.  "What- 
ever course,  therefore,  this  class  of  Methodists  may  adopt,  this 
plan  can  not  lead,  one  would  hope,  to  alienation  and  bitter- 
ness, a  result  to  be  deprecated  especially  in  an  effort  to  ex- 
tend the  domain  of  Christian  charity.  I  believe  that  few, 
probably  none,  would  enter  such  an  alliance  who  do  not 
really  disapprove  of  slavery,  and  sincerely  desire  its  extir- 
pation. 

I  think  there  are  strong  reasons  why  Methodists  should  not 
favor  alliance  tests  more  stringent  than  that  of  the  Disci- 
pline. You,  especially,  are  in  a  position  to  feel  the  necessity 
of  this  moderation,  whatever  temptations  there  may  be  to 
transcend  it.  Every  good  argument  in  favor  of  more  ex- 
clusiveness  is  good  for  Mr.  O.  Scott  against  our  Church,  and 
it  will  be  equally  good  for  any  new  school  of  radicals  that 
may  arise  among  us.  You  have  all  along  contended,  against 
all  the  world,  that  our  Church  occupies  the  right  ground, 
which  is,  that  slaveholding  is  not  necessarily  sinful,  and  that 
all  who  hold  slaves  with  the  animus  implied,  in  regarding 
slavery  "  a  great  evil,"  which  we  ought  to  "  extirpate,"  how 
and  when  God  permits,  are,  quoad  hoc,  fit  for  Church-mem- 
bership. Much  more,  then,  are  they  fit  for  the  Alliance, 
which  seeks  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  charity,  and  can  not 
proceed  a  step  except  by  relaxing  tests.  Such  a  feature  as  I 
am  here  discussing,  the  American  portion  of  the  committee  in 
London  proposed,  but  Hinton  and  his  party  refused  it  as  in- 
sufficient. I  firmly  believe  that  if  ive  adopt  such  a  basis, 
the  English  branch  will  recognize  us.  A  few  will  refuse, 


THE     EVANGELICAL     ALLIANCE.  325 

but  the  great  body  will  be  satisfied.  All  the  articles  -of  the 
basis  are  declaratory,  and  none  propose  any  inquisition  or  dis- 
cipline. The  anti-slavery  article  now  under  discussion  obeys 
this  analogy,  and  plainly  an  alliance  can  go  no  further.  It 
proposes  tests,  but  can  not  detect  hypocrites.  It  should  not 
seek  an  impracticable  result  in  regard  to  slaveholders,  any 
more  than  in  regard  to  other  classes  of  persons  whom  it 
wishes  to  sift.  Let  me  repeat  distinctly,  what  I  have  inti- 
mated above,  that  it  seems  to  me,  you  should  be  careful  not 
to  insist  on  any  test  stricter  or  fuller  than  that  of  our  Dis- 
cipline. You  can  advocate  this  with  consistency,  and  I  hope 
with  safety  to  the  enterprise.  If  Methodists  want  an  alli- 
ance stricter  than  their  Church,  and  I  know  some  excellent 
men  do,  they  can  not  complain  of  brethren  who  are  more 
easily  satisfied — at  least,  not  reasonably 

It  is  of  the  spirit  of  the  Alliance  to  prefer  such  a  basis  as,  not 
being  anti-Christian,  shall,  in  fact,  hold  the  largest  number  of 
Christ's  disciples.  We  do  not  the  less  love  many  who  can  not 
be  embraced  by  any  practicable  plan.  Many  m^tst,  I  fear, 
be  excluded  in  the  present  state  of  opinions  among  Christians. 
/  can  go  for  any  of  the  plans  proposed,  provided  it  fulfills  this 
fundamental  condition  of  embracing  the  largest  practicable 
company  of  disciples.  I  am  free  to  say,  and  I  dare  not,  on 
fit  occasions,  omit  to  say,  that  I  believe  Southern  Church 
members  to  be,  to  a  hopeful  extent,  Christians  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  I  can  not  withhold  my  charity  from  pro- 
fessing slaveholders,  in  the  gross,  for  it  would  belie  all  my 
experience  and  deep  convictions.  I  can,  therefore,  receive 
them  on  any  discriminating  basis.  Still,  if  the  largest 
union,  and  a  larger  far  than  we  now  have,  can  be  had  with- 
out  them,  then  good  men  are  free  to  such  a  connection. 

As  I  understand  your  letter,  you  propose  to  advocate  a  re- 
striction tantamount  to  that  of  our  discipline.  Your  editorial 
seerns  to  imply  more,  though  easily  susceptible  of  this  inter- 
pretation. You  only  wish  to  exclude  guilty  slaveholders. 


326  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

The  declaration  proposed  will  do  this,  as  far  as  such  tests  can. 
effect  their  object,  as  far  even  as  the  other  adopted  tests  are 
likely  to  accomplish  these  ends,  and  this  is  all  that  you,  as  a 
Methodist,  can  aim  at  consistently.  It  will  be  easy,  I  fear, 
for  ultra  men,  with  some  yielding  on  the  part  of  the  more 
conservative  classes,  to  prevent  the  formation  of  any  alliance. 
They  can  not  form  one  on  ultra  principles  that  shall  not  coun- 
teract its  own  professed  objects.  May  the  great  Head  of  the 
Church  inspire  his  people  with  wisdom  and  moderation,  with 
a  strong  sense  of  the  importance  of  the  ends  proposed  by  the 
Evangelical  Alliance  ! 


HOME     LIFE.  327 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

• 
HOME  LIFE. 

AN  illumination  of  the  college,  with  Dr.  Olin's  name 
traced  in  lines  of  light,  gave  expression  to  the  pleasure 
of  the  students  at  the  safe  return  of  their  president.* 

*  "  His  first  hours  of  safe  return  among  us,"  writes  one  of  the  stu- 
dents, "  were  those  of  gladness.  The  utterance  of  anxious  prayers 
for  his  safety  and  health  was  changed  to  that  of  praise  and  gratitude 
to  Infinite  Beneficence  for  this  great  favor. 

"  Our  joyous  emotion  could  find  no  method  of  outward  manifesta- 
tion so  appropriate  as  an  illumination  of  the  college  buildings.  The 
purpose,  both  to  honor  and  please  him,  was  unanimous,  not  only  among 
the  students,  but  also  among  the  professors  and  their  families,  to  make 
the  demonstration  on  the  first  evening  after  his  arrival.  When  the 
first  hour  after  twilight  had  arrived,  at  a  given  signal  the  entire  front 
of  the  buildings  burst  into  a  blaze  of  light. 

"At  this  moment  the  doctor,  attended  by  a  company  of  friends  who 
came  out  to  enjoy  with  him  the  pleasures  of  the  hour,  appeared  and 
walked  slowly  across  the  college  grounds.  He  was  evidently  much 
pleased  at  this  hearty  expression  of  welcome  from  those  under  his 
care,  for  he  often  turned  to  behold  and  admire  the  divers  figures  of 
flame  in  the  different  rows  of  windows.  Having  walked  down  the 
gentle  descent  to  the  gate  which  fronts  the  college,  here  he  paused, 
beholding  it  for  a  few  moments  in  silence,  when,  by  an  ingenious  re- 
arrangement of  the  tapers  in  the  upper  range  of  windows,  they  were 
made  to  read  DR.  OLIN,  while  all  the  lights  in  the  lower  windows 
were  instantly  extinguished. 

"  All  faces  were  radiant  with  joy,  but  none  more  so  than  the  face 
of  him  for  whose  honor  and  gratification  the  illumination  was  planned 
and  executed.  More  than  one  of  our  number  stood  near  the  great 
man  to  observe  the  effect  of  the  demonstration.  He  could  but  under- 
stand that  his  name  was  on  every  tongue — that  himself  was  the  centre 
of  this  affection,  and  the  occasion  of  this  manifestation  of  joy.  We 
stood  near  to  study  the  composition  of  the  man  (for  the  great  often 


328  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

The  benefit  derived  from  his  voyage,  however,  was  but 
temporary.  An  illness  which  attacked  him  the  last  of 
January  confined  him  to  his  room  till  the  middle  of 
April.  These  repeated  illnesses  were  grievous  trials  to 
him.  The  physical  inconveniences,  the  suffering,  the 
privation  from  air  and  exercise,  were  slight  in  compar- 
ison with  baffled  plans,  interrupted  duties,  and  accu- 
mulated labors  thrown  on  days  of  health.  His  respons- 
ibilities seemed,  in  his  hours  of  weakness,  a  burden 
too  heavy  for  him  to  bear.  Cheerful,  uncomplaining, 
he  always  was,  and  through  grace  he  was  enabled  to 
rise  above  even  these  depressing  thoughts  and  roll  his 
burden  upon  the  Lord.  He  seldom  suffered  acute  pain, 
he  required  no  nursing,  and,  though  incapable  of  read- 
ing, of  concentrated  thought  or  exertion,  his  social  sym- 
pathies were  in  full  play,  and  the  hours  spent  in  his 
sick-room  were  brightened  by  converse,  spontaneous 
and  delightful. 

The  members  of  the  Faculty  and  other  friends  who 
were  accustomed  to  visit  him  will  remember  cordial 
greetings  and  playful  remarks  uttered  by  the  invalid. 
Anxious  thoughts  of  his  cares  and  duties  were  laid 
away  till  the  days  of  health  came,  and  free  entrance 
was  given  to  thoughts  of  the  varied  past  or  the  shift- 
ing scenes  of  the  present,  on  which  his  eye  was  ever 
fixed  with  lively  interest.  Often,  when  he  was  scarce- 
ly able  to  sit  up,  he  would  rise  from  his  bed  and  go  off 
on  a  journey  to  facilitate  the  recovery  which  would  be 

serve  as  a  page  of  instruction  or  criticism  when  they  little  know  it), 
and  to  hear  what  he  said.  No  lineament  or  expression  of  extrava- 
gance was  manifest  in  him.  He  was  the  same  kind,  calm,  and  hum- 
ble man  as  ever,  though  he  was  evidently  gratified  at  the  sight  afforded 
him  of  the  deep  affection  borne  to  him  by  the  students  and  Faculty." 


AMERICAN    BRANCH    OF     THE     ALLIANCE.    329 

more  tardy  at  home.  An  old  black  woman  at  the  South 
once  said  to  him,  "  Massa,  you  have  large  resolution  to 
wander  about  the  world,  and  you  so  sick  !" 

He  recovered  his  usual  health  in  April,  and  during 
the  spring  and  summer  visited  the  Conferences  as  usu- 
al. He  went  to  New  York  in  May  for  the  session  of 
the  New  York  Conference,  and,  while  there,  he  attend- 
ed the  meetings  of  the  American  branch  of  the  Evan- 
gelical Alliance.  He  writes  to  his  wife,  May  10th, 
1847 :  "I  got  to  the  Alliance  when  it  was  engaged  in 
the  discussion  of  the  slavery  article — proceeding,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  to  no  very  hopeful  results.  I  proposed 
a  substitute  exactly  conforming  to  the  feature  of  our 
Discipline  on  this  subject,  which,  after  considerable 
discussion,  prevailed.  I  fear  little  will  be  accom- 
plished, however.  It  may  be  as  well,  perhaps,  to  cease 
from  attempting  to  form  a  union  which  must  probably 
encounter  fierce  opposition."  A  Lutheran  minister, 
who  had  been  a  delegate  to  the  Evangelical  Alliance 
in  London,  and  who  was  present  on  this  occasion,  said 
that  the  Convention  was  doubtful  and  undecided,  when 
Dr.  Olin  rose,  and  in  a  few  direct  words,  spoken  in  his 
clear,  forcible  manner,  indicated  the  course  which  was 
subsequently  adopted. 

The  August  vacation  he  spent  at  Northampton,  de- 
voting himself  to  the  details  of  the  water-cure,  from 
which  he  derived  great  benefit.  For  a  year  and  a  half 
he  was  not  ill  for  a  day.  He  was  able  to  walk  vigor- 
ously, and  to  spend  hours  in  reading — a  privilege  which 
had  long  been  denied  him.  Always  a  great  lover  of 
punctuality  and  system,*  his  days  were  now  appor- 

*  A  trivial  fact  may  illustrate  the  love  of  order  which  he  carried 


330 


LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


tioned  off  with  the  greatest  regularity.  The  college 
bell  rang  at  five  o'clock,  awaking  him  in  the  darkness 
of  a  winter's  morning,  the  thermometer  "  sometimes 
butting  against  zero,"  to  take  his  cold  shower-bath,  the 
water  frequently  freezing  as  it  fell.  Then,  in  all  weath- 
ers— snow,  sleet,  fog,  or  rain — or  in  the  incense-breath- 
ing morn  of  a  summer's  day,  he  walked  three  or  four 
miles.  These  walks  were  rendered  more  tolerable  by 
the  companionship  of  Professor  Lindsay,  who  walked 
more  than  three  thousand  miles  with  him  in  these  ear- 
ly morning  hours.  Between  six  and  seven  he  went 
into  the  study  (where,  during  his  hours  at  home,  he 
kept  a  bright  wood-fire  burning)  for  his  season  of  de- 
votional retirement.  Family  prayers  were  at  seven 
o'clock,  and  then  his  simple  breakfast.  The  hours  from 
nine  to  twelve  were  spent  in  his  room  at  the  college. 
After  dinner,  as  the  college  bell  rang  for  two,  his  tall 
form  was  always  seen  in  the  little  path  leading  from 
his  own  house  through  the  campus.  At  half  past 
four  o'clock,  when  all  the  students  .repaired  to  their 
different  recitation-rooms,  he  walked  rapidly  to  and 
from  the  post-office ;  then  he  looked  over  his  letters  and 
papers  before  the  bell  rang  at  half  past  five  o'clock  for 
evening  prayers,  which  he  always  attended.  The  frag- 
ments of  his  time  were  most  carefully  gathered  up.  In 
addition  to  most  of  the  papers  and  periodicals  of  the 
Methodist  Church,  the  four  leading  British  Quarterlies, 
and  the  New  Englander,  which  he  was  always  in  the 

out  in  little  things.  The  Faculty  meetings  were  held  in  his  room  in 
college,  and,  to  furnish  the  requisite  number  of  seats  for  the  occasion, 
an  extra  chair  was  brought  from  an  inner  room.  After  the  meeting 
was  over,  he  could  not  go  on  with  his  writing  till  that  chair  was  re- 
stored to  its  place. 


READING.  331 


habit  of  reading,  he  now,  in  these  days  of  renewed 
health,  went  quietly  through  one  large  volume  after 
another,  replacing  in  the  hook-case,  as  he  loved  to  do 
every  thing  in  order,  the  volume  he  had  read  before 
the  next  was  taken  down.  Arnold's  History  of  Rome 
and  of  the  Later  Commonwealth,  Thiiiwall's  Greece, 
Neander's  History  of  the  Church  and  Life  of  Christ, 
Upham's  works,  with  those  of  Fuller  and  Robert  Hall, 
the  Memoirs  of  Cromwell,  Campbell,  Southey,  and  John 
Foster,  of  M'Cheyne,  Milnor,  and  Grriswold,  gave  a 
charm  to  his  leisure  hours  of  which  they  had  long  been 
deprived.  In  the  Life  of  Dr.  Arnold. he  was  deeply  in- 
terested. He  first  saw  the  account  of  his  death  in  some 
periodical,  when  on  his  way  to  Washington,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1844,  and  he  said,  musingly,  "Forty-seven!  I 
have  just  reached  the  age  at  which  Dr.  Arnold  died." 
After  the  thorough  knowledge  obtained,  through  the 
memoir,  of  the  living  working  man,  the  narrative  of 
his  death,  taken  away  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his 
days,  was  like  hearing  of  the  death  of  a  valued  friend. 
It  affected  Dr.  Olin  to  tears. 

The  Life  of  Chalmers,  which  he  loved  to  have  read 
to  him  on  Sunday  evenings,  afforded  him  great  enjoy- 
ment. He  discovered  new  elements  of  beauty  and 
power  in  his  character.  His  romantic  and  devoted  at- 
tachment to  his  young  friend,  Mr.  Thomas  Smith,  was 
a  new  page  of  great  interest.  How  memorable  were 
his  family  devotions  the  Sunday  evening  that  these 
chapters  in  the  history  of  Chalmers  were  read.  "What 
power  and  unction  rested  on  them  from  above  !  With 
what  solemnity  did  he  consecrate  himself  and  those 
most  dear  to  him  to  God !  Some  forcible  words  of  Dr. 


332  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


Chalmers's  he  distinctly  remembered  having  been 
struck  with,  nearly  thirty  years  before,  when  he  read 
them  in  a  sermon  published  at  that  time  on  the  death 
of  the  Princess  Charlotte.  They  are  italicized  in  the 
following  passage :  "  On  looking  at  the  mighty  mass 
of  a  city  population,  I  state  my  apprehension  that  if 
something  be  not  done  to  bring  this  enormous  physical 
strength  under  the  control  of  Christian  humanized  prin- 
ciple, the  day  may  yet  come  when  it  may  lift  against 
the  authorities  of  the  land  its  brawny  vigor,  and  dis- 
charge upon  them  all  the  turbulence  of  its  rude  and 
volcanic  energy."  Before  the  third  volume  of  Dr. 
Chalmers's  Life  had  issued  from  the  press,  Dr.  Olin 
had  gone  where  he  needed  no  records  to  acquaint  him 
with  the  illustrious  dead. 

He  was  always  glad  to  see  his  friends  and  his  breth- 
ren in  his  home.  They  will  remember  his  hearty  wel- 
come, his  "  warm,  kind  smile,"  the  playful  salutations, 
so  characteristic  and  peculiar,  with  which  he  greeted 
the  members  of  the  Faculty  and  their  families,  whom 
he  was  accustomed  to  meet  so  familiarly  and  so  fre- 
quently. His  conversation  had  point  and  vigor.  Words 
unexpectedly  applied  seemed  at  once  to  have  a  pecul- 
iar fitness  for  the  object  they  described.  He  was  re- 
markably free  from  exaggeration.  His  thoughts  were 
not  crude  nor  one-sided,  but  calm  and  mature,  show- 
ing that  they  emanated  from  a  dweller  on  the  serene 
heights  of  truth — from  one  accustomed  to  take  large 
views  of  men  and  things.  "It  is  a  matter  of  vain 
regret  to  me  now,"  says  Dr.  "Wightman,  "  that  I  did 
not  keep  memoranda  of  many  of  the  conversations  I 
have  had  with  Dr.  Olin.  The  practical  wisdom  of 


GENIAL     SPIRIT.  333 


his  remarks  would  entitle  most  of  them  to  a  place  in 
the  best  books  of  table-talk  ever  published.  I  recol- 
lect to  have  been  struck,  on  a  journey  with  him  once, 
in  a  stage-coach,  over  a  very  rough  and  somewhat 
dangerous  road  in  G-eorgia,  with  the  perfect  compo- 
sure he  manifested  during  the  various  lurches  of  our 
land-ship  in  and  out  of  deep  mud-holes.  Expressing 
my  surprise  at  his  command  over  his  nerves,  he  said 
it  was  his  custom,  in  traveling,  to  select  the  best  and 
safest  routes  and  vehicles,  and  then  to  commit  himself, 
with  perfect  trust  in  Providence,  to  all  the  fortunes 
of  the  way,  never  troubling  his  mind  for  a  moment 
with  anticipations  of  disaster.  We  went  with  perfect 
safety;  but  a  year  or  two  afterward,  on  the  same  route, 
in  company  with  my  honored  friend  Bishop  Janes,  we 
were  upset  in  the  stage,  with  no  serious  damage,  how- 
ever, to  any  one." 

He  was  never  dictatorial.  He  had  no  hobbies  ;  but 
there  was  in  his  large  catholic  spirit  a  power  of  adapt- 
ation to  all  the  varieties  of  human  character  with 
which  he  was  brought  into  contact.  "  Though  I  knew 
he  had  a  great  mind,"  said  a  young  friend,  "  yet  he 
never  made  me  feel  his  superiority.  He  did  not  over- 
power me  with  argument,  but  he  listened  with  gentle 
consideration  to  what  I  had  to  say,  and  then  gave  me 
his  own  views  on  the  subject."  Some  of  his  friends 
thought  that  he  had  great  power  in  discerning  spirits, 
that  he  could  read  people  as  by  intuition.  His  judg- 
ments, however,  were  genial  and  kindly,  and  the  law 
of  love  governed  his  spirit  as  well  as  his  conversa- 
tion. 

He  rarely  told  anecdotes,  though  his  memory  might 


LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


have  furnished  many  of  interest.  He  said  that,  when 
a  hoy,  he  used  to  listen  to  the  stories  which  his  father 
told  with  so  much  effect,  and,  in  the  course  of  their 
repetition  at  distant  intervals,  he  found  that  there 
were  slight  variations  and  additions,  as  the  memory  of 
the  narrator  failed  with  regard  to  certain  points  of  the 
story.  These  observations  of  the  boy  habitually  re- 
strained the  conscientious  man  from  similar  narrations, 
lest  he  might  unconsciously  swerve,  even  in  the  slight- 
est degree,  from  the  simple  truth. 

An  incident  may  further  illustrate  his  conscientious 
carefulness.  He  was  requested  to  furnish  a  motto  for 
a  little  work  by  Mr.  Field,  "  Scripture  Illustrated  by 
Anecdotes,"  and  he  readily  furnished  one,  but  with  the 
stipulation  that  it  should  not  appear  with  his  name. 
He  thought  that  the  idea  or  form  of  expression  might 
be  borrowed,  he  did  not  know  from  whom,  nor  that  it 
was  borrowed  at  all ;  but  he  was  not  sure  that  it  was 
his  own.  The  motto  is  as  follows  :  "  While  the  great 
events  of  history  deserve  to  be  studied  as  phenomena 
of  the  Divine  administration,  the  facts  and  incidents 
of  common  life  illustrate  the  ways  of  God's  providence, 
and  are  often  the  best  interpreters  of  His  word." 

The  birth  of  a  son  in  the  spring  of  1847  tended  to 
enlarge  and  make  more  intense  the  circle  of  his  sym- 
pathies. "  I  find,"  he  says,  "  that  he  has  hold  of  a  string 
which  none  before  him  have  pulled.  May  (rod  spare 
the  little  fellow,  and  strengthen  him  with  might  and 
grace  for  a  long  life  and  a  good  fight."  Most  tenderly 
did  he  sustain  the  parental  relation  during  the  brief 
period  in  which  (rod  allowed  him  to  taste  its  peculiar 
joy.  He  lavished  an  overflowing  love  upon  the  chil- 


PATERNAL    AFFECTION.  335 

dren,  who  climbed  his  knee,  and  caressed  and  amused 
him  with  their  childish  prattle.  He  seldom  spoke  of 
his  travels ;  but  he  delighted  the  little  Henry  with  sto- 
ries of  the  East — of  the  monk  of  the  mountain,  who 
swam  after  their  boat  on  the  Nile  to  ask  for  bucksheesh 
— of  the  Mohammedan  boys  who  drove  him  out  of  the 
Mosque  of  St.  Sophia — of  the  poor  Christian  beaten  at 
the  Gate  of  Bethlehem  ;  or  he  told  him  of  boyish  expe- 
ditions to  gather  whortleberries  amid  the  Green  Mount- 
ains of  "Vermont.  One  day  while  driving  out,  he  saw 
a  group  of  children  picking  whortleberries  by  the  road- 
side. He  stopped  the  horse,  lifted  his  three-year  old 
boy  out  of  the  carriage,  borrowed  a  tin  cup  from  a  lit- 
tle girl,  and  quietly  waited  till  Henry  should  fill  it  with 
berries.  He  had  his  reward,  when  the  little  Henry, 
who  had  often  imagined  himself  the  hero  of  his  father's 
boyish  adventures,  exclaimed,  with  great  glee,  on  being 
replaced  in  the  carriage,  "Now  it  is  fact,  and  not  fic- 
tion, that  I  have  gathered  whortleberries."  The  chil- 
dren knelt  at  his  knee  and  placed  their  little  hands  in  his 
for  their  morning  and  their  evening  prayer.  Dearly  as 
they  loved  him,  they  learned  from  him,  with  the  dawn 
of  reason,  the  lesson  of  perfect  obedience.  It  was  easy 
to  see  that  he  had  power  to  mould  the  character  of  a 
child — and  the  only  infusion  in  this  cup  of  joy  was  the 
thought,  ever  recurring  to  his  mind,  that  these  boys 
would  probably  grow  up  to  be  men  without  his  form- 
ing hand.  His  warm  affections  were  manifested  in  the 
daily  loving  charities  of  domestic  life.  On  his  return 
from  a  journey,  his  trunk  generally  contained  some 
proof  that  the  dear  ones  at  home  had  been  remembered 
in  his  absence ;  and  the  18th  of  October,  the  anni- 


336  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

versary  of  his  marriage,  never  came  without  some  "beau- 
tiful and  appropriate  gift  for  his  wife. 

He  had  almost  a  trembling  apprehensiveness  about 
the  children,  which  revealed  itself  more  fully  in  his 
letters  when  away  from  home.  In  May,  1848,  while 
attending  the  New  York  Conference  in  Brooklyn,  he 
writes  to  his  wife,  "  I  am  anxious  to  hear  from  home. 
I  find  the  addition  of  little  Henry  to  our  stock  in  life 
has,  with  greatly  increased  pleasures,  brought  greater 
solicitudes.  At  this  season  I  think  of  his  special  lia- 
bilities from  teething  and  other  causes,  among  which  I 
often  find  myself  contemplating  the  probability  of  his 
walking  bolt  over  the  edge  of  our  dangerous  veranda, 
or  retrogading  from  the  top  of  the  stairs,  evils  from 
which  I  can  not  regard  him  as  secure  for  some  time  to 
come.  All  depends  upon  sleepless  vigilance.  Take  a 
fresh  caution  for  yourself,  and  administer  one  in  my 
name  to  Mary  Anne.  It  would  be  sad  to  hear  that  the 
little  fellow  had  strided  on  into  any  serious  difficulty. 
It  takes  no  little  philosophy  to  feel  composed,  in  view 
of  the  endless  smaller  casualties  to  which  he  seems 
exposed  and  doomed,  do  what  you  can.  His  yielding 
head  is  inevitably  to  be  brought  into  contact  with  every 
angle  of  mahogany  furniture  not  above  his  reach.  All 
very  harmless,  you  think,  provided  the  arnica  be  duly 
applied.  Well,  it  is  a  training  for  the  world  before  him, 
in  which  are  falls  and  thumps  not  a  few  for  even  the 
most  fortunate.  May  God  be  his  shield  of  defense  in 
all  dangers,  present  and  future,  small  and  great,  and 
bring  out  of  these  disciplinary  processes  the  best  results 
for  body  and  soul — for  time  and  eternity.  Meantime, 
watch  over  all,  for  you  occupy  a  position  of  high  re- 


THE     LAST     TEN     YEARS.  337 


sponsibility.  You  are,  in  the  order  of  Providence,  the 
appointed  guardian  of  the  interests  of  both  worlds  to 
this  dear  little  boy.  May  you  receive  grace  to  accom- 
plish well  your  delightful  task." 

Dr.  Olin  was  so  accustomed  to  express  his  deep  con- 
viction that  his  life  was,  to  a  great  degree,  an  unpro- 
ductive one,  that  it  may  be  well  to  sum  up  some  of  the 
deeds  done  in  his  last  ten  years.  One  day  when  he  had 
"  talked  with  his  past  hours,"  he  said  he  could  not  look 
back  upon  great  things  achieved — he  had  been  denied 
the  satisfaction  of  carrying  forward  large  plans  of  use- 
fulness, but  that  he  had  been  enabled  to  accomplish  two 
works  of  value.  His  Travels  in  the  East,  giving  as 
they  did  a  truthful  picture  of  the  Lands  of  the  Bible, 
would  aid  the  student  of  God's  word ;  and  the  Wesleyan 
University,  established  on  a  permanent  basis,  would, 
with  (rod's  blessing,  be  a  powerful  agency  in  the 
Church.  But  he  did  more  than  this.  He  preached 
sermons  in  all  the  Methodist  Churches  of  New  York, 
Brooklyn,  Williamsburgh,  Boston  ;  in  Baltimore,  Phila- 
delphia, Washington,  at  all  of  the  Conferences  of  New 
York  and  New  England,  and  at  the  dedication  of  a 
number  of  churches  in'  different  parts  of  the  country. 
He  answered  upward  of  sixteen  hundred  letters ;  and 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  pages,  he  wrote  the  two  vol- 
umes published  since  his  death,  besides  a  volume  still  in 
manuscript,  containing  his  observations  on  Greece  and 
Constantinople.  The  composition  of  five  large  volumes, 
replete  with  vigorous  thought,  in  addition  to  an  extens- 
ive correspondence,  and  the  labor  of  governing  and  pro- 
viding for  the  pecuniary  wants  of  a  college,  entitle  those 
ten  years  to  be  considered  a  productive  period  of  his  life. 
TT.  P 


338  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

He  preached  at  Middletown  shortly  after  the  open- 
ing of  the  college  term  (February  6th,  1848),  on  Acts, 
iv.,  20,  "  We  can  not  but  speak  the  things  we  have 
seen  and  heard."  "Under  that  head  which  describes 

the  elevated,  disinterested  Christian,"  writes  Mrs. , 

"  he  said,  '  Paul  could  not  backslide.  Present  ever  in 
the  likeness  of  Christ's  death,  he  had  divinity  enough 
in  him  to  save  him.  Attached  to  Christ's  chariot,  one 
in  faith  with  Christ,  as  soon  might  we  expect  an  angel 
to  soil  his  white  robe.'  In  another  place,  '  He  is  still 
our  neighbor,  though  the  Himalaya  Mountains  be  piled 
upon  the  Alps  between  us.'  Speaking  of  the  effort 
made  for  Ireland  a  few  years  before,  he  said,  '  But  they 
heed  not  the  starving  for  the  bread  of  Life.  Throb- 
bing empires,  masses  of  immortal  souls,  on  one  individ- 
ual of  which  rests  more  than  the  consummated  misery 
of  Ireland,  oh !  where  is  the  outburst  of  mercy  for  the 
heathen?'  It  was  communion-day,  and  he  said,  'As 
you  go  to  the  altar,  think  of  the  hosts  who  have  not 
this  privilege — no  communion  of  saints — no  Bible.' 

"I  think  that  some  of  the  most  characteristic  ex- 
pressions that  I  ever  heard  him  use  were  in  this  ser- 
mon ;  but  they  are  not  printed.  Those  touches  gave 
such  indescribable  power  to  what  he  said !  I  suppose 
they  would  not  do  for  a  coldly-judging  public  in  a  pub- 
lished sermon  ;  but  how  they  thrilled  the  heart  of  the 
ravished  hearer ! 

"On  the  29th  of  February,  I  heard  him  preach  in 
the  North  Congregational  Church,  in  Middletown,  from 
John,  xii.,  35-36  :  '  Yet  a  little  while  is  the  light  with 
you.  Walk  while  ye  have  the  light,  lest  darkness  come 
upon  you  ;  for  he  that  walketh  in  darkness  knoweth  not 


MEMORANDA     OF     HIS     PREACHING.  339 

whither  he  goeth.  While  ye  have  the  light,  believe  in 
the  light,  that  ye  may  be  children  of  the  light.'  How 
grand  and  shadowy  he  looked  in  that  dimly-lighted 
church  when  he  so  graphically  depicted  the  state  of 
those  stumbling  in  a  hazy,  foggy,  semi-dark  state,  try- 
ing to  do  like  '  old  Saul,'  unconscious  to  the  last  of 
his  desertion !  I  spent  the  next  Friday  evening  with 
him,  and  he  said  he  had  just  finished  Merle  D'Aubigne's 
Life  of  Cromwell ;  and,  as  he  stood  up  by  the  mantel- 
piece in  the  library,  he  descanted  so  enthusiastically 
upon  Cromwell's  character.  He  thought  him  a  great 
Christian.  All  Hume's  aspersions  were  entirely  re- 
moved. He  had  been  deeply  profited  by  Cromwell's 
'  earnest  faith' — as  much  edified  as  by  any  record  of 
spiritual  experience  that  he  had  ever  read.  He  spoke 
of  Dr.  Bushnell  as  a  '  master-spirit,'  and  talked  of  his 
article  on  the  Comprehensiveness  of  Christianity  with 
unmixed  admiration. 

"  June  4th,  I  heard  him  preach  on  the  Lord's  Supper. 
Those  were  my  marked  days  when  I  heard  him  preach. 
I  always  noted  them  down." 

In  July,  1848,  he  delivered  an  address  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  Missionary  Hall  of  the  Wesleyan  University. 
This  is  a  room,  fitted  up  by  the  "  liberality  and  enterprise 
of  Christian  friends  as  a  depository  for  such  specimens 
of  art  from  unevangelized  tribes,  and  for  such  symbols 
and  implements  connected  with  their  religious  ideas 
and  worship,  as  shall  aid  the  inquisitive  student  in  ac- 
quiring the  most  ample  information  and  the  most  vivid 
impressions  in  regard  to  the  heathen  world.  Here  was 
to  be  the  place  of  congregation,  and  consultation,  and 
sympathy,  and  prayer  for  pious  students  whose  hearts 


340  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

Grod  may  touch  with  a  benevolent  concern  for  the  spirit- 
ual welfare  of  pagan  nations."*  "  They  will  meet  here 
for  pious  converse,  for  fervent  supplications — to  imbibe 
and  communicate  holy  aspirations  and  Christ-like  am- 
bitions— to  learn  to  weep  over  perishing  millions — to 
stir  up  each  other's  swelling  hearts  to  great  enterprises 
and  great  sacrifices — to  snatch  coals  of  fire  from  an 
ever-blazing  altar,  and  rush  away,  as  God  may  speed 
them,  to  kindle  an  inextinguishable  flame  in  dark,. ac- 
cursed regions  which  are  now  anathema  tnaranatha 
because  they  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."!  Books, 
periodicals,  maps,  and  charts  were  to  lend  their  aid  to 
awaken  and  rightly  to  direct  Christian  energies. 

His  theme,  a  most  appropriate  one  for  such  an  oc- 
casion, was  the  missionary  spirit,  the  great  character- 
izing spirit  of  scholarship  and  civilization.  In  discuss- 
ing this  topic,  he  showed  that  missionaries  had,  during 
the  last  forty  years,  done  more  than  all  other  men  to 
extend  the  boundaries  of  the  most  interesting  branches 
of  human  knowledge.  At  the  close  of  his  address,  he 
most  solemnly  dedicated  the  hall  to  its  religious  uses, 
after  which  a  hymn,  kindly  written  for  the  occasion  by 
Mrs.  Sigourney,  was  sung  by  the  assembly  to  the  grand 
melody  of  Old  Hundred.  A  simple  entertainment  was 
followed  by  an  address  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Turnbull,  of 
Hartford,  and  thus  ended  an  evening  not  soon  to  be 
forgotten  by  those  who  shared  its  hallowed  pleasures. 

*  Four  of  the  students  who  were  at  the  Wesleyan  University  dur- 
ing Dr.  Olin's  administration  are  now  missionaries  in  distant  lands  : 
two  in  China,  one  in  Oregon,  and  one  in  Africa. 

t  See  Works,  vol.  ii.,  p.  338. 


HYMN    BY    MRS.   SIGOURNEY.  341 

HYMN 

FOR    THE    DEDICATION    OF    A    MISSIONARY   ROOM    AT  THE   WESLEYAN   UNI- 
VERSITY. 

Not  to  the  pomp  and  pride  of  life, 

Not  to  the  wealth  that  fleets  away, 
Not  to  ambition's  noisy  strife, 

We  consecrate  these  walls  this  day. 

But  to  their  self-devoted  toil 

Who  chose  the  path  their  Savior  trod, 

Sow  with  Heaven's  seed  a  sterile  soil, 
And  point  the  pagan  soul  to  God. 

For  deeds  like  these  with  fervent  prayer, 

We  dedicate  them,  Lord,  to  thee  ; 
Arm  them  with  strength  thy  yoke  to  bear, 

And  faithful  in  thy  service  be. 

Grant  power  to  break  Guadama's  chain, 

Illume  dark  China's  ancient  night ; 
Send  streams  o'er  Afric's  torrid  plain, 

And  give  our  forest  brethren  light. 

So,  when  their  work  on  earth  is  o'er, 
They,  with  the  myriads  of  the  blest, 

Shall  find  on  yon  celestial  shore 
High  plaudit  and  eternal  rest. 

And  so  this  place  where  now  we  pray 
Shall  breathe  thy  praise  without  alloy, 

And  in  the  judgment's  fearful  day 
Come  up,  with  memories  of  joy. 

L.  H.  SIGOURNEY. 

At  the  Commencement  of  this  year  he  delivered  a 
baccalaureate  address  to  the  graduating  class  on  The 
Relations  of  Christian  Principle  to  mental  Culture,  from 
the  text,  "As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he ;" 
"a  discourse,"  says  the  New  Englander,  "which,  for 
massive  richness  of  thought  and  dignified  force  of  style, 
would  not  he  unworthy  of  John  Foster." 


342  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

Letters  written  in  1847  and  1848. 

CLIII.  TO  MR.  JAMES  STRONG.  * 

Middletown,  April  20th,  1847. 

It  is  now  a  long  time  since  I  received  your  letter,  asking 
for  information  in  regard  to  the  pastoral  customs  existing  at 
this  time  in  the  East.  I  fear  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  sat- 
isfy your  inquiry,  but  I  must  explain  my  long  silence,  for 
which  I  have  but  too  good  an  apology.  I  was  ill  when  your 
letter  reached  me,  and  to  the  present  time  have  been  un- 
able to  write.  I  will  only  add,  that  it  will  always  give  me 
pleasure  to  hear  from  you  on  any  subject  in  which  you  may 
feel  an  interest. 

I  am  unable  to  write  more  than  a  brief  reply.  The  com- 
mon custom  is  to  gather  the  flocks  into  the  villages  at  night, 
as  I  often  had  opportunity  to  observe.  In  tracts  wholly  de- 
voted to  pasturage,  the  shepherds  pitch  their  tents  in  com- 
pany, and  the  flocks  are  collected  about  them  at  night. 
Whether  any  other  custom  prevails  in  Palestine  I  know  not, 
but  suppose  that  when  flocks  are  driven  into  mountain  dis- 
tricts, and  to  the  desert,  as  they  often  are,  the  shepherd  and 
his  dogs  must  lodge  and  watch  near  them.  This  I  saw  in 
Arabia,  and  perhaps  within  the  limits  of  Judea. 

My  reason  for  this  delay  and  for  brevity,  will,  I  am  sure, 
appear  sufficient  to  you. 

CLIV.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Lynn,  May  2d,  1847. 

.  I  have  had  one  meeting  with  the  Education 
Committee.  Little  was  done,  and  we  are  to  meet  again  to- 
morrow afternoon.  No  action  can  be  had  in  the  Conference 
sooner  than  Tuesday,  which  renders  it  quite  certain  that  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  leave  before  Wednesday,  probably  not 
until  Thursday.  My  presence  is  indispensable  to  a  satisfac- 
*  Author  of  a  "  Harmony  of  the  Gospels." 


REPORT  TO  NEW  ENGLAND  CONFERENCE.  343 


tory  arrangement  of  our  matters.  Indeed,  I  greatly  fear  that 
I  may  not  for  some  time  be  released  from  the  necessity  of  these 
annual  visitations,  should  my  health  unexpectedly  allow  me 
to  continue  in  my  office.  This  is  the  least  agreeable  of  all 
my  functions — the  begging  part,  I  mean.  It  would  be  pleas- 
ant enough  to  mingle  with  friends  at  the  Conferences,  if 
some  pleasanter  duty  led  me  there.  Pleasant  duties,  how- 
ever, might  not  always  be  most  salutary  for  us.  I  am  yet  glad 
that  the  Master  chooses  for  me,  and  if  he  chooses  I  am  will- 
ing to  take  my  lot  in  the  shape  of  crosses. 

To  write  after  the  L type  :  On  Friday,  Bishops  Hed- 

ding  and  Janes  dined  with  me  at  my  host's.  Yesterday  I 
took  tea  with  Bishops  Hedding  arid  Morris,  at  the  Rev.  Mr. 
M'Reading's.  All  was  very  pleasant.  Yesterday  I  made 
some  report  of  my  delegation  to  the  Evangelical  Alliance. 
I  had  no  intention  to  say  but  a  fe"w  words,  and  so  began  by 
apologizing  about  my  inability  to  speak  audibly,  or  more  than 
a  few  minutes,  if  at  all ;  then,  with  beautiful  consistency, 
spoke  on  to  within  five  or  ten  minutes  of  the  end  of  an  hour  !* 

*       Notes  of  an  Address  made  in  the  New  England  Conference. 

1.  Due  to  the  Conference  to  make  some  report  of  the  Evangelical 
Alliance,  because  I  was  its  delegate,  and  because  some  errors  have 
prevailed,  growing,  probably,  out  of  the  secrecy  of  the  proceedings. 
I  at  first  felt  it  my  duty  to  decline  going  to  London  on  account  of 
home  duties,  &c.,  but  finally  consented  on  account  of  my  health.     I 
felt  especially  honored  by  this  Conference. 

2.  My  opinions  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.     The  attempt  to  gain 
so  great  a  boon  as  "  a  large  Christian  union,"  was  most  Christian, 
and  should  have  been  made  if  there  were  but  slight  prospects  of  suc- 
cess.    Failure  in  trying  to  reach  this  noble  position  was  not  dishon- 
orable.    The  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  was  more  forward  than 
other  denominations  ;  very  suitably,  as  it  is  second  to  none  in  theo- 
retical and  actual  catholicity — has  no  hobbies. 

3.  It  can  not  prove  a  failure,  for  much  has  been  attained.     We 
have  now  a  general  admission  of  the  want  of  union,  and  of  the  strong 
desire  of  all  sects  to  attain  it.     This  is  most  encouraging.     Liberal 
men  were  apt  to  think  that  they  and  their  sect  were  alone  like  Eli- 


344  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

As  the  whole  was  pretty  much  unpremeditated,  it  gave  me 
very  little  fatigue,  and  I  slept  as  well  last  night  and  feel  as 
well  to-day  as  usual. 

jah ;  now  they  rejoice  to  find  that  they  have  the  sympathies  of  mul- 
titudes. Ground  has  been  gained  in  this  way  that  can  hardly  be  lost. 
The  idea  must  live  and  grow,  whatever  befall  organizations. ' 

4.  The  meeting  of  so  many  such  Christians — their  harmony  on  all 
strictly  religious  questions — their  delightful  communings — their  one- 
ness of  experience  and  of  faith  in  essentials — was  affecting,  edifying, 
and  must,  I  think,  diffuse  salutary  influences  over  many  Churches. 
Calvinists  seemed  utterly  surprised  and  rejoiced  to  find  Methodists 
as  ready  as  themselves  to  give  all  glory  to  Christ,  and  stand  up  for 
salvation  by  grace  alone. 

5.  The  all  but  unanimous  adoption  of  the  doctrinal  basis  was  an 
auspicious  event,  likely  to  exert  great  and  permanent  influence.    It 
is  a  declaration  before  the  world  by  leading  ministers  of  all  consider- 
able evangelical  denominations,  that  the  doctrines  set  forth  are  fun- 
damental— are  sufficient  guarantees  of  sound,  theoretical  Christian- 
ity ;  still  more,  that,  on  comparing  notes,  the  many  sects  do  substan- 
tially agree  in  these.    I  must  think  this  a  great  moral  achievement, 
worth  all  the  trouble  of  holding  the  Alliance. 

II. 

The  question  of  slavery.  The  general  ground  taken  by  our  dele- 
gates. 

1.  It  was  wrong  to  start  so  grave  a  question  after  we  had  been 
commissioned,  and  had  left  our  homes  to  attend  the  Alliance. 

2.  They  bore  a  united  testimony  as  to  the  great  evil,  but  could  not 
consent  that  Christians  who  are  not  active  abolitionists  are  there- 
fore pro-slavery  men.     They  affirmed  that  themselves  and  their 
Northern  Churches  were  opposed  to  slavery,  and  that  the  difference 
is  chiefly  about  means.     They  believed  that  no  large  union  could  be 
formed  here  on  the  basis  proposed,  and  they  wished  to  refer  the  sub- 
ject to  our  Christian  people  at  home,  as  alone  competent  to  settle  its 
basis. 

My  position :  I  concurred  with  the  delegation,  to  which  I  was  con- 
strained, not  only  by  my  convictions,  but  the  presumed  will  of  my 
constituents. 

1.  I  was  shut  up  to  the  object — the  larger  union.  I  was  sent  for 
that,  and  in  the  divisions  here  I  felt  sure  that  the  object  could  not  be 
reached  by  the  exclusion. 


APOLOGIES.  345 


The  Rev.  E.  T.  Taylor  is  my  co-lodger,  and  I  never  found 
him  so  interesting  and  original.  I  never  before  thought  so 
highly  of  his  genius  or  piety.  His  unique,  figurative,  pow- 
erful language  is  laden  with  strange,  strong  thoughts.  His 
imagination  is,  indeed,  wonderful  in  its  fertility  and  power. 
You  would  have  laughed  and  wept  to  hear  his  prayer  this 
morning,  in  our  family  devotions,  in  behalf  of  yourself  and 
the  baby,  so  strongly  original,  figurative,  fervent,  appropriate, 
and  touching.  I  thought  I  should  hardly  forget  it,  but  I  am 
unable  to  recall  a  single  sentence.  My  mind  will  not  receive 
and  retain  his  forms  of  thought  and  speech. 

CLV.  TO  THE  REV. . 

Middletown,  June  24th,  1847. 

I  have  been  for  some  time  just  about  to  write  to  you.  I 
have  been  very  busy.  My  long  illness  during  the  winter 
and  early  spring  led  to  a  great  accumulation  of  urgent  du- 
ties, which  I  have  been  laboring  with  such  diligence  as  I 
could  to  perform.  This  has  been  the  true  cause  of  tardiness 
in  my  correspondence.  I  suppose  that  I  am  above  suspicion 
in  regard  to  any  reasons  incompatible  with  great  and  undi- 
ininished  affection  for  you,  and  with  a  very  high  appreciation 
of  the  worth  of  your  correspondence.  If  I  am  not,  at  least 
I  ought  to  be,  which  is  a  home  source  of  consolation  little  li- 
able to  failure.  How  sad  it  is  that  so  many  pages  of  the  lit- 
tle space  we  are  able  to  give  to  our  friends  must  be  overrun 
with  apologies.  Does  not  an  apology  usually  imply  some 
consciousness  or  half  consciousness  of  delinquency  1  and  yet 
it  commonly  accuses  fate,  and  exculpates  self !  This  is  to 
be  said  in  favor  of  such  perorations  that  they  render  protes- 
tations and  professions  less  intolerable  than  they  are  without 

2.  I  was  shut  up  to  the  course  as  a  Methodist.  The  Discipline  was 
my  letter  of  instructions  as  delegate  of  two  Conferences.  I  had  no 
other,  and  I  should  have  deserved  your  censure  had  I  transcended  its 
doctrines. 

P2 


346  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

some  special  provocation  of  the  sort.  I  endeavor  to  keep  up 
with  the  claims  of  correspondents,  and  so  to  keep  myself  in 
a  position  to  give  to  these  stealthy  declarations  of  affection, 
which,  after  all,  it  is  very  pleasant  to  reiterate,  the  form  of 
reproaches  for  the  negligence  and  inferior  punctuality  of  my 
friends.  I  like  this  way  the  better  of  the  two,  but  fear  its 
morality  may  be  questionable.  Better  to  confess  our  own 
faults  than  remind  our  friends  of  theirs.  Still,  the  last  is 
the  more  natural,  and  what  charm  is  equal  to  naturalness  in 
epistolary  correspondence  ?  But  I  must  rescue  myself  from 
this  deepening  depth  of  metaphysical  ethics,  and  pass  per  sal- 
turn  to  the  practical. 

.  .  .  .  Allow  me  to  add  that  I  hope  you  will  not  look 
with  increase  of  favor  on  any  of  the  embryo  projects  which 
would  lead  you  away  from  your  present  position.  I  should 
deprecate  this  as  a  serious  misfortune  in  its  probable  opera- 
tion upon  yourself  and  upon  the  good  cause  in  which  you  la- 
bor. You  are  just  now  in  a  situation  to  exert  a  considerable 
and,  I  am  persuaded,  a  rapidly  increasing  influence.  You 
are  just  beginning  to  be  known  as  a  literary  man,  and  every 
year  o£ diligent,  steady  work  will  double  your  resources  as 
well  as  their  efficiency.  Abide  in  your  calling.  You  need 
its  help  in  giving  character  to  your  efforts,  and  weight  and 
stability  to  your  character.  In  your  present  office,  your 
Methodism  will  prove  a  powerful  auxiliary  to  your  literary 
labors.  Out  of  it,  I  fear  it  may  do  you  very  little  good  in  the 
open  field  of  literature,  to  which,  I  suppose,  you  would  devote 
yourself.  Again,  where  you  now  are,  your  literary  efforts  re- 
dound to  the  advancement  of  our  Church  in  influence  and  re- 
spectability. Remove  and  you  lose  this  advantage,  of  which 
I  greatly  question  your  right  to  disfurnish  yourself. 

You  talk  of  going  to  Germany,  &-c.  Twenty  years  ago  this 
might  have  been  well.  Now  Germany  is  here  for  all  the 
ends  of  improved  scholarship  ;  its  books — its  ways  and  no- 
tions of  teaching — its  criticism — its  doctrines,  good,  and  bad, 


DEATH    OP    A    CHILD.  347 

and  indifferent.  Your  time  is  too  valuable  for  this  fancy,  not 
to  speak  of  money.  We  have  too  few  men  capable  of  doing 
what  you  can  do,  to  spare  three  or  four  of  your  best  years 
for  this  pilgrimage  to  a  shrine  before  which,  if  you  would 
think  so,  you  worship  daily  and  intelligently.  Allow  me  to 
add,  that  it  is  hardly  probable  that  you  will,  on  your  return 
from  Europe,  enter  so  intimately  as  now  into  denominational 
work,  where  you  are  most  wanted,  and  where,  above  all,  you 
are  really  needed. 

Had  you  felt  the  need  of  advice,  you  would  no  doubt  have 
asked  for  it.  Is  it  proof  of  my  friendship,  or  the  reverse,  that 
you  have  it  even  on  easier  terms  ? 

CLVI.  TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  __ 
(On  the  death  of  a  child). 

Middletown,  June  28th,  1847. 

MY  DEAR  FRIENDS, — I  have  heard  with  a  very  deep  sym- 
pathy of  the  removal  of  your  lovely  babe.  If  we  may  judge 
of  the  strength  and  tenderness  of  the  ties  so  suddenly  and  un- 
expectedly torn  asunder  by  the  sentiments  which  the  posses- 
sion for  only  two  months  of  our  own  precious  boy  has  awak- 
ened in  the  parental  bosom,  we  more  readily  than  some  oth- 
ers may  appreciate  the  poignancy  of  your  sorrows.  You  had 
enjoyed  the  society  of  ihe  little  cherub  for  nearly  a  year.  It 
had,  meantime,  attained  a  measure  of  development  and  ma- 
turity in  those  bewitching,  infantine  acts  and  accomplish- 
ments by  which  nature  endows  the  helplessness  of  that  ear- 
ly age  with  the  means  of  lightening  and  rewarding  all  the 
cares  which  it  imposes  on  its  guardians.  You  will  have  the 
recollection  of  its  smiles,  its  playfulness,  and  of  its  growing 
intelligence  to  dwell  upon,  and  to  add  to  the  bitterness  of  the 
bereavement.  Yours  is  precisely  a  case  of  sorrow,  in  which 
friends  from  without  can  administer  the  least  consolation.  I 
know,  too,  you  are  surrounded  by  many  friends  who  weep 
and  suffer  with  you,  and  who  will  have  it  in  their  power  to 


348  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


afford  all  the  alleviation  of  which  such  afflictions  are  sus- 
ceptible. Were  we  present  with  you,  we  could  not  aid  them 
much  in  attempts  which,  whoever  makes  them,  must,  I  fear, 
for  some  time  at  least,  prove  nearly  vain.  "We  shall  not  fail 
to  invoke  the  blessing  of  God  upon  you  in  this  your  first  seri- 
ous trouble. 

My  thoughts  have  taken  one  special  direction  ever  since 
the  sad  tidings  reached  us.  I  follow  the  darling  babe  to  his 
new  sphere  of  being.  He  has  gone  to  fulfill  the  designs  of 
God,  under  conditions  very  different  from  those  which  beset 
him  here,  and  no  doubt  far  more  favorable  to  his  happiness 
for  the  next  sixty  or  seventy  years,  than  could  have  been  his 
longer  stay  upon  earth.  His  immortal  powers  will  open  and 
grow  into  manhood  in  the  absence  of  sin  and  temptation. 
You  have  given  one  pure,  undying  spirit  to  the  innumerable 
multitude  who  encircle  the  Savior  in  his  glory.  This  is  a 
sublime,  consolatory,  though  hardly  comprehensible  thought, 
which  becomes  available  and  mighty  to  soothe  the  wounded 
spirit  just  in  proportion  as  it  is  embraced  with  a  clear  and 
lively  faith.  The  babe  has  the  full  benefit  of  the  translation 
beyond  all  doubt  or  contingency.  Whether  you  shall,  in  this 
time  of  your  trial,  find  support  ID.  such  considerations  must 
depend  upon  yourselves.  Is  it  not  a  time  when  your  friends 
may,  without  any  fear  of  giving  offense,  beseech  you  to  turn 
for  consolation  to  the  heaven  which  is  henceforth  the  home 
of  your  departed,  lovely  boy  ?  You  have,  peihaps,  neglected 
hitherto  to  "  lay  up  treasure"  there,  but  God  has,  without 
your  agency  or  consent,  deposited  what  was  most  precious  to 
you,  "where  moth  and  rust  doth  not  corrupt !"  How  does 
this,  thought  strike  you  ?  Will  you  not  allow  your  hearts  to 
be  drawn  toward  this  region  of  blessedness,  now  that  it  has 
become  impossible  to  keep  away  from  Christ  without  insur- 
ing your  perpetual  separation  from  the  precious  babe  which 
he  has  seized  and  will  ever  keep  as  his  own  ?  It  is  my  de- 
liberate onnvio.tion  that  God  intends  this  sore  visitation  in 


JOURNAL     LETTER.  349 

mercy.  He  has  conferred  many  blessings  upon  you,  but  they 
have  failed  in  awakening  your  religious  convictions  into  any 
valuable  activity.  Your  Christian  friends  rejoice  to  witness 
your  sober  views  in  regard  to  the  world,  and  what  are  called 
its  pleasures  ;  but  they  painfully  fear  that,  in  the  harmony, 
and  peace,  and  enjoyments  of  your  delightful  domestic  situa- 
ation  and  prospects,  you  are  not  unlikely  to  enter  fully  into 
life  without  God.  What  a  thought !  To  establish  and  rear 
a  family  without  religion  !  God  has  taken  charge  of  your 
first-born  !  It  will  no  doubt  have  good  nurture  in  heaven  ; 
and  its  removal  so  early  may  be  the  means  of  introducing 
Christ  to  the  parents — of  making  Him  who  claims  you,  no 
less  than  your  boy  for  his  own,  the  basis  of  your  future  ar 
rangements  for  happiness.  While  you  feel  deeply,  go  to  the 
great  Comforter  for  relief.  Do  not  allow  this  sorrow  to  pass 
away  without  finding  peace  and  hope  in  God.  A  louder  call 
— a  more  touching  appeal — even  God  can  not  make  in  his 
ordinary  providences.  I  pray  that  his  Spirit  may  aid,  and 
that  you,  my  dear  friends,  may  even  noiv  give  your  hearts  to 
the  Savior. 

CLVII.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Binghampton,  July  22d,  1847. 

Having  just  got  seated  at  my  lodgings,  I  proceed  to  give 
you  some  account  of  the  fortunes  of  the  last  four  days.  Pro- 
fessor   was  my  very  agreeable  companion  as  far  as  New 

Haven,  where  he  stopped.     I  knew  no  one  at  first  in  the 

steamer,  but  by-and-by  found  Captain  S ,  with  whom  I 

had  good  discourse  of  things  nautical  or  other.  We  were  too 
late  for  the  Albany  boat  by  some  five  minutes,  which  decided 
my  doubts,  and  I  went  to  your  father's On  get- 
ting to  the  Erie  Rail-road  boat  in  the  morning,  I  found,  to 
my  sorrow,  that  I  must  lose  an  entire  day  somewhere  in  New 
York  or  at  Otisville,  whence  the  stage  proceeds,  at  11  P.M., 
on  the  arrival  of  the  second  boat  from  New  York.  It  was 


350  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

just  too  late  for  the  Albany  boat,  and,  after  balancing  the 
matter  five  minutes,  till  I  felt  quite  foolish  and  looked  so  to 
the  people  around,  I  desperately  resolved  to  go  on  with  a 
huge  odoriferous  company  of  milkmen,  women,  and  cars,  from 
Orange  county,  and  take  what  might  befall  at  Otisville.  It 
is  a  very  poor  region  all  the  way  nearly,  including  what  I 
saw  of  Orange.  Even  Goshen,  so  renowned  and  venerable 
for  good  butter,  which  comes  through  it  from  Pennsylvania, 
Delaware,  Broome,  &c.,  ranks  only  with  Upper  Houses,  and 
such  like  places.  Otisville  contains  Mr.  Otis's  store,  besides 
a  very  dirty  tavern,  &c.,  where  I  intended  after  dinner  to  be- 
guile the  tedious  moments,  as  I  am  doing  these,  by  writing  of 
my  grievances  to  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  will  sym- 
pathize so  far  as  to  laugh  at  them,  to  which  height  of  sorrow 
I  wish  to  exalt  you  at  this  present.  Luckily,  there  were  just 
nine  of  us  in  this  predicament  waiting  to  go  on  at  night. 
The  proprietor,  therefore,  agreed  to  forward  us  twenty  miles 
to  Milford  by  daylight,  and  we  slept  beautifully  till  4  A.M., 
when  the  night  stage  came  on  and  took  us  in.  This  was  a 
great  boon,  as  it  left  us  only  twenty-seven  hours  of  continu- 
ous motion  over  a  succession  of  mountain  ridges,  which  make 
up  the  way,  a  hundred  miles  or  more,  to  this  beautiful  town. 
The  route  was  unspeakably  fatiguing  ;  the  drivers  drunken, 
profane,  and  cross ;  the  taverns  dirty,  and  reeking  with  whis- 
ky and  topers.  I  made  inquiries  about  temperance,  church- 
going,  &c.,  with  but  little  satisfaction.  It  was  no  slight  ag- 
gravation to  find  that  these  beastly  publicans  are  mostly 
Connecticut  people.  These  Yankees  are  like  the  figs  of  Jer- 
emiah. 

We  passed  mile  upon  mile  without  meeting  with  man  or 
his  works — a  great  comfort,  as  the  biped,  two  chances  to  one, 
must  prove  a  drunkard.  For  forty  miles  the  land  is  clothed 
with  brushwood  and  scrubby  trees,  the  timber  having  been 
cut  for  lumber.  For  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  the  forest  is 
dense  and  heavy,  almost  to  sublimity.  The  immense  hem- 


JOURNAL    AT    NORTHAMPTON.  351 


locks,  and  sugar  maples,  and  elms  positively  inspire  a  kind 
of  respect,  the  more  so  as  they  seem  to  be  clean,  and  not  to 
drink  whisky.  We  crossed  the  Delaware  at  a  little  village 
about  a  mile  from  a  point  where  New  York,  New  Jersey, 
and  Pennsylvania  come  in  contact,  each  pouting  out  a  sharp 
corner  for  the  frowning  salutation.  The  funny,  rubicund 
innkeeper  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  calls  his  little, 
rough  hen-house  and  lot  Metamoras.  So  Rome  enriched 
her  language  by  her  conquests.  But  there  is  little  use'  of 
reasoning  against  the  prejudices  of  a  confirmed  Whig,  who 
can  not  or  will  not  see  the  advantages  of  annexation.  We 
reached  Honesdale  at  3£  P.M.,  in  a  deep  ravine — very  sickly 
— flourishing — the  terminus  of  the  Hudson  and  Delaware  Ca- 
nal, through  which  pass  this  year  four  hundred  thousand  tons 
of  coal.  Following  the  Susquehanna  much  of  the  way,  we 
arrived  here  at  eight  this  morning.  The  preacher  soon  call- 
ed for  me  at  the  hotel.  Between  nine  and  ten,  I  went  to  the 
well-filled  Conference,  and  found  brother  Dempster  in  the 
midst  of  a  two  hours'  speech,  and  a  good  one  at  that,  for 
the  Biblical  Institute.  This  man  gets  up  early,  and  must 
prosper.  He  is  ever  a  little  ahead  of  me 

CLVIII.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Northampton,  August  12th,  1847. 
I  am  devoting  myself  to  the  details  of  the  wa- 
ter-cure with  all  industry  and  fidelity.  What  with  taking 
the  baths  and  the  walks — a  no  less  essential  thing — I  have 
little  time  left  for  any  thing  else.  Reading  is,  indeed,  pretty 
much  prohibited.  I  write  about  one  letter  in  the  day,  which 
is  as  much  as  I  can  venture  upon.  Yesterday  I  would 
have  gone  to  Amherst  College,  only  eight  miles  distance,  to 
hear  an  address  from  Charles  Sumner,  as  I  would  gladly  be 
present  at  their  Commencement  to-day,  but  that  prudence 
rather  demands  the  practice  of  self-denial  in  this  and  all 
other  indulgences.  I  have  seen  Dr.  Woodward,  and  I  met 


352  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

with  President  Hopkins  at  his  house,  with  whom  I  felt  my- 
self quite  fortunate  in  forming  a  brief  acquaintance.  I  see  a 
good  deal  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Allen,  former  president  of  Bowdoin 
College,  but  now  resident  here.  He  called  first  to  see  me 
with  Professor  Tappan,  who,  with  his  lady,  is  here  for  some 
days. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Baker  is  the  Methodist  preacher  here,  under, 
I  should  think,  not  very  flattering  auspices.  He  is,  I  think,  an 
excellent  man,  and  I  trust  that  his  field  of  labor  may  prove 
fruitful.  Congregationalism  is  very  strong  here.  The  pop- 
ulation is  very  stationary,  and  below  the  most  fashionable 
class,  which  has  undergone  and  undergoes  changes,  the  mass 
is  not  moved  or  modified  by  the  introduction  of  new  employ- 
ments or  populations.  It  seems  to  me  no  hopeful  place  for 
getting  up  new  congregations,  least  of  all  a  Methodist  con- 
gregation. Yet  the  Divine  blessing  may  make  us  to  prosper 
even  here.  There  is  a  small  but  improving  Episcopal  con- 
gregation, which,  I  am  told,  has  had  its  prosperity,  partly  at 
least,  at  the  expense  of  Unitarianism.  Orthodox  Congrega- 
tionalism is  high  in  the  ascendant.  I  might  be  glad  to  see 
our  Church  thrive  here,  but  where  Congregationalism  reigns, 
religion  prospers  in  one  of  its  soundest  forms.  This  noble 
missionary  denomination  deserves  all  commendation  and  con- 
fidence, and  it  will  certainly  enjoy  the  Divine  blessing. 

The  dear  little  Henry  !  He,  too,  is  happy, 
for  God  cares  for  these  precious  lambs,  with  whom  His  own 
heavenly  kingdom  is  peopled.  I  think  of  the  little  fellow 
with  the  most  lively  interest  and  delight.  May  the  blessing 
of  the  Father,  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost  be  his  ever- 
more ;  and  upon  you  may  the  same  heavenly  benediction 
rest  continually.  Are  you  prayerful,  watchful,  zealous,  and 
useful  ?  Be  so  more  and  more,  remembering  that  we  must 
soon  go  to  the  judgment.  In  that  day  may  we  be  acquitted, 
in  and  through  the  infinite  mercy,  by  Christ  Jesus. 


TO    HIS    NIECE     ON    HER     MARRIAGE.  353 


CLIX.  TO  MRS.  MARY  ANN  HOWARD  WILLIAMS 
(On  her  marriage). 

Northampton,  Mass.,  August  13th,  1847. 

It  is  now  more  than  three  weeks  since  I  received  your  very 
welcome  letter.  As  you  proposed  leaving  home  immediately 
after  the  interesting  event  which  was  so  near,  I  knew  not 
where  I  might  direct  a  letter  with  the  hope  of  its  reaching 
you.  This,  I  fear,  may  wait  for  some  weeks  in  Columbus  ; 
but  I  will  not  postpone  my  reply  any  longer.  And  now,  my 
dear  friend,  allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  the  event  of 
your  marriage,  which  I  do  with  an  earnestness  of  good  wishes 
and  affection  which  the  formal  words  appropriated  to  such 
occasions  can  not  express.  There  are  not  many  persons  in 
the  world  in  whose  happiness  I  could  possibly  feel  the  inter- 
est I  do,  and  have  long  done  in  yours,  and  I  especially  sym- 
pathize with  your  joyful  anticipations  on  a  change  necessarily 
fraught  with  momentous  and  permanent  consequences.  I 
will  not  doubt  that  your  marriage  will  contribute  greatly  to 
your  happiness.  It  is,  I  am  well  persuaded,  on  the  whole, 
the  happiest  condition  for  either  sex.  I  am  sure,  too,  that 
you  possess  many  qualifications  to  meet  the  responsibilities 
and  appreciate  the  satisfactions  of  the  new  relation  into 
which  you  have  entered.  I  do  not  doubt  for  a  moment  that 
you  will  prove  an  excellent  wife,  and  that  you  will  richly  de- 
serve the  love  and  confidence  of  the  man  into  whose  hands 
you  have  surrendered  your  hopes  for  the  present  world.  I 
feel,  too,  the  utmost  assurance  that  you  have  chosen  discreet- 
ly— that  Mr.  Williams  is  a  gentleman  of  fine  talents  and  high 
character.  No  other  was  worthy  of  you.  I  should  grudge 
you  to  a  commonplace,  unintellectual  man  of  low  aims.  Of 
such  a  husband  as  your  friends  could  desire  for  you — of  such 
an  one  as  I  hear  you  have,  I  doubt  not  you  will  prove  your- 
self most  worthy.  You  will  beautify  and  cheer  his  home  by 
the  constant  exercise  of  those  virtues  which  make  a  good 


354  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

wife — in  the  emphatic  language  of  Solomon,  "  a  good  thing" 
— the  evidence  of  "the  favor  of  the  Lord." 

And  now,  my  dear  Mary  Ann,  you  will  not  be  startled  at 
the  seriousness  with  which  I  invoke  the  Divine  blessing  upon 
you  in  your  new  estate,  for  I  am  of  a  long  time  accustomed 
to  commend  those  I  love  to  the  care  and  benediction  of  my 
heavenly  Father.  To  Him  I  have  very  often  committed  you 
in  earnest  supplications,  but  never  more  earnestly  than  I  now 
pray  that  His  richest  gifts  and  grace  may  be  yours — that  the 
blessing  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
may  ever  rest  upon  you  and  yours.  I  should  truly  rejoice  to 
know,  at  this  momentous  crisis  of  your  life,  you  had  consecra- 
ted yourself  to  the  Savior.  How  unspeakably  important  is 
it,  in  organizing  a  new  family,  to  introduce  religion  into  its 
foundations — to  invite  Christ  to  the  feast  of  pure  enjoyments 
which  is  spread  before  you.  May  this  felicity,  this  true  wis- 
dom be  granted  to  you  and  your  chosen  friend  :  "As  for  me 
and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord."  May  this  become 
the  law  of  your  lives — your  motto  in  all  places — your  solace 
and  hope  through  all  changes.  Forgive  me  if  this  strain 
seems  inappropriate  to  the  occasion.  I  but  give  vent  to  my 
deepest  feelings.  God  is  my  witness  how  unfeignedly  I  speak 
from  strong  emotion.  May  he  guard  you  and  bless  you,  now 
and  forever. 

Why  could  you  not  have  made  your  bridal  tour  to  New 
England  as  well  as  to  the  mountains  ?  You  must  come  and 
see  us.  Mrs.  Olin  joins  in  this  injunction.  Come  and  spend 
the  warm  season  with  us,  or  as  much  of  it  as  you  can.  I 
want  to  know  Mr.  Williams.  Do  not  allow  him  to  think 
that  I  am  ascetic  or  gloomy.  I  will  receive  him  joyfully, 
and  probably  say  far  less  than  I  ought  in  the  serious  strain 
which  would  characterize  this  letter. 

Remember  me  to  your  mother  and  father,  and  to  the  chil- 
dren, including  now  a  veteran  from  the  wars,  two  graduates 
from  the  state  college,  and  at  least  one  young  lady  tending 


ON     LIBERALITY    OF     SENTIMENT.  355 

rapidly  to  the  destiny  you  have  just  fulfilled.  What  changes 
a  few  years  accomplish  !  May  all  changes  bring  increasing 
happiness  to  my  dear  niece. 

CLX.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Northampton,  Saturday,  August  14th,  1847. 
So  far  I  had  proceeded  when  I  was  called  out 
to  see  the  Rev.  Mr.  Swift,  pastor  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church,  and  in  the  regular  succession  from  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards. He  came  to  invite  me  to  preach  to-morrow,  the  first 
time,  no  doubt,  that  a  Methodist  was  ever  so  honored.  I  re- 
gret exceedingly  not  feeling  at  liberty  to  comply.  It  is  de- 
lightful to  think  that  such  instances  of  liberality  are  on  the 
increase.  How  bright  will  be  the  day  when  pious  men  shall 
cease  to  magnify  the  differences,  and  harmonize  in  the  infi- 
nitely more  important  points  in  which  they  agree  !  In  Christ, 
our  common  adorable  Savior,  all  pious  people  find  their  all. 
Having  faith  in  Him,  none  are  or  can  be  in  any  essential  error. 
How  pitiful,  how  hateful  in  his  sight  must  appear  our  misera- 
ble bickerings  and  alienations  !  This  bigotry  is,  in  my  deliber- 
ate opinion,  one  of  the  chief  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  Gos- 
pel— one  of  the  devil's  main  engines  to  carry  forward  his  war- 
fare against  the  kingdom  of  God.  How  gladly  would  I  wor- 
ship with  Baptist,  Presbyterian,  or  Churchman  !  How  from 
the  depths  of  my  soul  do  I  loathe  the  miserable  sectarianism, 
by  whatever  name  called,  which  keeps  Christ's  disciples  at 
variance  !  I  would  abandon  my  own  denomination  without 
hesitation,  if  it  refused  to  recognize  others  as  true  Churches 
and  true  ministers  of  Christ. 

.  .  .  .  I  am  as  well  as  usual,  though  I  had  a  sick  and 
nearly  sleepless  night,  having  taken  cold  yesterday.  The 
wet  sheet  seemed  quite  to  expel  it  this  morning,  beyond  all 
my  hopes.  I  hardly  feel  any  effect  from  it  to-day.  I  gain 
confidence  in  the  remedy  from  what  I  see  here,  and  should 
hope  for  decided  help,  had  I  four  months,  instead  of  less  than 


356  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

four  weeks,  to  stay.  I  have  not  yet  ascended  Mount  Holy- 
oke,  but  intend  it ;  and  of  all  the  men  and  women  in  the 
universe,  you  are  precisely  the  person  whose  rather  exaggera- 
ted exclamations  I  should  prefer  to  hear  on  that  far-famed 
pinnacle.  But  so  it  may  not  be. 

The  dear  little  boy.  I  would  walk  miles  to  see  him.  He 
will  have  changed  not  a  little  before  I  return.  God  pre- 
serve him  and  his  mother !  My  happiness  and  hopes  are  but 
too  dependent  upon  these  two  frail  mortals.  I  am  satisfied, 
as  I  can  commit  them  to  God,  which  I  now  do,  in  all  earn- 
estness. 

CLXI.  TO  MRS.  OL1N. 

Northampton,  August  19th,  1847. 

The  most  observable  incident  which  has  transpired  since 
I  last  wrote,  is  the  ascent  of  Mount  Holyoke,  achieved  this 
morning  in  company  with  a  party  formed  among  the  hard 
drinkers  *  of  our  establishment.  The  top  of  the  mountain 
is  just  three  miles  from  the  centre  of  the  village  of  North- 
ampton, and  about  four  from  Round  Hill.  We  rode  through 
the  beautiful  meadows  that  half  encompass  the  village,  and 
constitute  its  pride  and  the  basis  of  all  its  prosperity.  Cross- 
ing the  river  and  proceeding  about  half  a  mile  beyond  it,  we 
left  our  horse  and  carriage  just  where  the  ascent  becomes  too 
abrupt  for  any  but  pedestrians.  From  this  point  to  the  summit 
of  the  mountain  it  is  very  steep,  and  the  walking,  for  want 
of  a  better  road,  is  as  difficult  as  that  up  the  Flegere  from 
the  vale  of  Chamouni.  The  elevation  is  not,  therefore,  to 
be  confounded  with  that  of  Mont  Blanc,  being  only  eight 
hundred  feet  above  the  glassy,  or,  rather,  silvery  surface  of 
the  most  tortuous  Connecticut,  which  winds  every  way,  and 
nearly  cuts  up  the  extensive,  beautiful  bottom  into  islands. 
You  have  heard  many  descriptions  of  the  view,  I  suppose, 
from  ladies,  and  even  from  gentlemen,  more  imaginative  than 
*  Of  pure  cold  water. 


DETAILS     OF     THE     WATER-CURE.  357 

I  am,  and  I  will  not  run  the  risk  of  degrading  the  noble  sub- 
ject by  my  fiat  sayings.  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen 
any  thing  more  charming  in  all  my  travels. 

The  mountain  features  which  support  the  horizon  on  all 
sides,  at  the  apparent  distance  of  from  fifteen  to  thirty  miles, 
are  less  bold  than  the  Katskills,  which  so  ennoble  the  views 
enjoyed  at  Rhinebeck  and  Red  Hook ;  but  the  filling  up  is 
exquisitely  rich  as  well  as  various.  I  know  not  how  many 
steeples  you  may  count,  for  I  did  not  count  them,  but  the 
eye  takes  in  many  sweet  villages,  and  a  vast  area  of  meadows 
and  corn-fields.  Toward  the  edges  of  the  plain,  or,  rather, 
toward  the  circumference  of  the  basin,  the  slopes  of  the  hills 
are  much  wooded,  which  has  a  fine  effect,  and  forms  a  beauti- 
ful frame- work  for  the  gorgeous  picture.  The  eye  command- 
ed a  great  distance  to  the  North,  and  the  river,  winding  across 
and  across  the  green  meadows,  seems  to  divide  the  whole  re- 
gion into  distinct  sections.  The  air  was  invigorating,  and  at 
that  elevation  inconveniently  cool. 

After  remaining  about  an  hour,  we  descended  at  a  quick 
step,  and  got  home  in  time  to  sit  twenty-five  minutes  in  a 
tub  of  cold  water,  and  make  a  rapid  visit  to  the  springs,  from 
which  it  is  the  doctor's  request  that  I  imbibe  about  a  dozen 
large  cups  of  very  cool  water  in  the  course  of  each  day. 

I  forget  if,  in  the  progress  of  this  voluminous  correspond- 
ence, I  have  stated  to  you  the  order  of  my  most  monotonous 
life  here  at  Round  Hill.  At  half  past  three  o'clock  A.M.,  I 
am  packed.  At  half  past  five  comes  the  boy,  and  rolls  away 
the  superincumbent  drapery.  I  rise  to  my  feet  by  his  help, 
he  having  also  put  on  my  slippers,  and  a  blanket  over  my 
head.  He  also  opens  the  wrappings  a  little  at  the  feet,  going 
half  bent,  with  the  trail  of  corners  in  his  hand,  as  I  descend 
by  steps,  which  can  not  exceed  the  length  of  my  foot,  to  the 
bath-room.  I  take  the  half-bath,  and  am  first  sprinkled,  and 
then  have  some  pailsfull  of  cold  water  poured  over  my  head 
and  shoulders.  I  am  then  rubbed  dry,  walk  back  to  my 


358  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

room  and  dress,  and  then  walk  four  miles  and  drink  four  or 
five  cups  of  water  before  breakfast,  at  which  I  drink  nothing, 
and  eat  Graham  bread  and  hominy.  Then  comes  some  leis- 
ure, though  I  must  walk  a  mile  and  drink  again  before  the 
sitz-bath,  at  ten  A.M.  Half  an  hour  in  the  tub  is  again  fol- 
lowed by  a  walk  and  some  cooling  draught.  I  am  now 
ready  for  dinner,  and  it  is  ready  for  me  at  half  past  twelve 
o'clock — some  mutton  or  beef,  or  both,  some  potatoes,  hom- 
iny, and  rice.  Dessert,  rice  or  bread  pudding,  nearly  cold,  so 
that  it  will  not  melt  butter.  It  is  against  the  rule  to  sleep 
after  dinner,  so  I  read  a  little,  or  talk  most  uninterestingly  to 
some  one  in  the  parlor  (forty-four  by  forty).  I  must  walk 
and  drink,  and  write  an  affectionate  letter  to  my  dear  wife, 
in  time  for  another  sitz-bath  at  half-past  three  o'clock,  for  the 
mail  is  open  at  half  past  four,  when  by  far  the  most  delight- 
ful of  the  day's  incidents  is  liable  to  occur,  in  the  coming  of 
a  piece  of  folded  paper  signed  "  J.  M.  0.,"  and  redolent  of 
affection,  and  of  intimations  concerning  the  progress  in  all 
sorts  of  winning  ways  and  pride-inspiring  perfections,  of  the 
hope  of  my  house,  my  son  and  heir,  Master  S.  Henry  Olin, 
together  with  such  items  of  autobiography,  historical  notices, 
&c.,  as  the  checkered  career  of  the  writer,  of  the  coterie 

around  her,  of  Mrs.  S ,  and  such  other  dribblets  of  the 

Faculty  of  the  Wesleyan  University  now  extant  thereabouts 
may  furnish.  I  may  then  call  on  some  friends  in  need  at 
the  hotel  or  in  the  village,  or  I  may  read  the  Tribune,  the 
Post,  &c.  I  must  see,  and  sip  the  springs  again  in  time  for 
not  tea,  at  six  P.M. — I  must  walk  again  before  I  bathe  my 
feet,  and  go  to  bed  at  half  past  eight  P.M.  Here,  then,  you 
have  a  skeleton  of  my  daily  history.  Does  it  strike  you  as 
particularly  pleasant  ?  Do  you  perceive  no  odd  interstices,  in 
which  you  could  imagine  it  would  be  particularly  agreeable 
to  me  to  have  snatched  interviews  with  you  and  the  baby  ? 
Busy  as  I  may  seem,  I  assure  you,  in  all  good  faith,  there  are 
such.  I  even  find  no  little  time  to  think  of  you  both.  Of 


JOURNAL     LETTER.  359 

you  I  thought  to  day,  as  I  came  down  the  mountain.  What 
do  you  suppose  I  thought  ?  That  I  wished  it  had  been  you 
instead  of  me  who  had  had  the  view  and  the  pleasure. 

CLXII.  TO  THE  SAME. 

Northampton,  Wednesday,  Aug.  25th,  1847. 
It  is  a  pleasant  anticipation,  being  with  you 
in  a  few  days,  though  I  can  but  deeply  regret  my  inability 
to  carry  out  this  experiment  to  more  satisfactory  issues.  It 
requires  time,  and  with  six  months  for  a  fair  trial  I  should 
expect  valuable  and  permanent  results.  I  am  persuaded  that 
home  practice  can  do  but  little  beyond  a  palliation  of  exist- 
ing difficulties.  In  order  to  reach  a  cure,  the  mind,  the  true 
source  of  disease,  must  be  free.  It  can  not  be  free  in  the 
midst  of  my  official  duties  under  any  possible  arrangement ; 
and  it  seems  to  me  a  most  questionable  course,  that  of  work- 
ing against  so  many  infirmities,  and  in  the  face  of  so  many 
liabilities.  I  greatly  fear  that  I  shall  see  ground  to  repent 
of  my  departure  from  the  resolution  so  firmly  made  during 
my  illness  last  spring.  I  have  a  strong  desire  to  work  on  ; 
I  am  deeply  solicitous  to  see  the  university  placed  on  a  per- 
manent basis.  I  do  not  see  who,  under  all  the  circumstances, 
can  succeed  me  with  a  fair  prospect  of  completing  the  work 
now  hopefully  begun.  I  need  more  faith  to  commit  the 
whole  enterprise,  to  commit  you  and  myself  to  the  care  of 
our  covenant-keeping  God.  Oh  !  may  He  direct  and  guide 
for  it  and  for  us  ! 

It  is  my  intention  to  be  at  home  by  the  beginning  of  the 
term.  I  heartily  desire  to  see  you  and  the  cherub  boy.  It 
is  a  grievous  loss  to  be  so  much  separated  from  you.  I  seem 
to  myself  to  possess  ample  means  of  happiness  without  the 
power  of  enjoying  them — a  good  home,  kind  friends,  and  re- 
spectable position,  ....  then  the  precious  babe,  who 
really  has  come  most  unexpectedly  to  be  an  essential  element 
of  satisfaction.  I  could  hardly  do  without  him,  though  I  look 


360  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


with  solicitude  to  his  future,  destined,  as  I  think,  to  grow  up, 
if  he  lives,  without  my  instruction  and  watchfulness.  May 
God  endow  you  with  strength  for  double  duty.  Above  all, 
may  He  work  with  his  sanctifying  Spirit,  and  then  the  work 
will  be  made  easy. 

CLXIII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK 

Northampton,  August  26th,  1847. 

I  am  just  now  reminded  that  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  a 
letter  unanswered.  Is  it  so  ?  I  had  begun  to  indulge  in- 
ward complainings  that  you  were  so  long  silent.  Aware 
that  I  am  accustomed  to  reply  to  the  letters  of  my  friends, 
indeed,  to  all  letters,  without  procrastination,  I  had  concluded 
that  you  were  too  busy  to  write  for  the  present,  and  that  I 

should  soon  hear  from  you I  have  been  at  this 

place  three  weeks  to  make  some  experiment  of  the  water- 
cure.  I  expect  to  go  home  after  a  few  days,  as  our  term  will 
begin  next  Thursday.  I  intend  to  carry  on  the  practice  to 
some  extent  at  home,  and,  if  practicable,  to  devote  my  next 
vacation  to  it.  Three  weeks  have  not  afforded  time  to  do 
more  than  test  my  ability  to  bear  the  treatment,  and  to  afford 
some  opportunity  for  observing  its  modus  operandi,  and  some- 
thing of  its  effects  on  others.  I  think  more  and  more  favor- 
ably of  the  system,  and  have  an  increasing  desire  to  try  it 
thoroughly  in  my  own  case.  I  can  hardly  expect  perfect  re- 
lief of  ailments  of  so  long  standing,  and  so  complicated  with- 
al, by  the  unmistakable  symptoms  of  coming  old  age.  It  is, 
no  doubt,  my  duty  to  refit  the  crazy  tabernacle,  so  far  as  may 
be  done,  reserving,  at  the  same  time,  my  chief  solicitude  for 
the  imperishable  tenant  that  must  ere  long,  in  spite  of  all 
carefulness,  desert  it  for  a  house  not  made  with  hands.  Nev- 
er, in  any  part  of  my  life,  have  I  been  able  to  look  forward 
to  such  a  change  with  so  much  satisfaction.  I  had  never 
more  nor  stronger  reasons  for  wishing  to  live.  My  powers 
of  enjoyment  are  unimpaired,  and  my  sources  of  enjoyment 


JOURNAL     LETTER.  361 


never  more  affluent ;  but  I  find  myself  of  late  looking  for- 
ward with  a  complacency  of  which  I  have  not  had  experi- 
ence before.  It  will  be  a  glorious  deliverance  for  me  to  es- 
cape from  responsibilities  and  labors,  for  which  perpetual  bod- 
ily infirmities  so  completely  disqualify  me,  into  the  REST  that 
remains  for  God's  people.  Nobody  can  think  more  meanly 
of  my  capacity  for  usefulness  than  I  do — nobody  less  of  what 
I  have  done  in  the  world,  and  yet  I  have  all  along  seemed  to 
myself  shut  up  to  a  course  of  life  demanding  both  high  tal- 
ents and  sound  health.  I  would  gladly  avoid  such  posts,  but 
I  am  tied  up  by  conscience  and  a  sense  of  duty,  beset  ever,  at 
the  same  time,  with  something  near  to  a  conviction  that  I 
am  injuring  the  very  interests  for  which  I  suffer  so  much,  by 
keeping  others,  more  fit  to  occupy  it,  out  of  a  position  for 
which  I  deeply  feel  my  utter  unfitness.  How  delightful  a 
refuge  is  heaven  from  siich  perplexity,  and  from  a  world  of 
sin  !  My  wife  and  her  little  boy  have  something  for  me  to 
do  in  the  world.  They  constitute  the  chief  reason,  so  far  as 
I  can  see,  why  I  should  choose  a  longer  stay.  Delightful 
thought,  that  our  changes  are  with  God  ! 

CLXIV.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Northampton,  August  27th,  1847. 

This,  I  suppose,  is  the  last  letter  I  shall  send  you  during 
my  present  absence,  as  I  hope  to  be  with  you  early  next 

week 

.  .  .  .  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  feel,  under  all  circum- 
stances, that  progress  is  constantly  made  toward  a  better  coun- 
try, into  which  no  annoyance  will  find  admission.  I  feel  that 
I  am  trying  to  do  right,  and  I  think  I  enjoy  the  Divine  favor. 
This  is  my  sheet-anchor  :  If  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against 
us  ?  All  things  work  together  for  good,  and  we  may  be  his 
children — we  are  so. 

What  have  I  gained  by  coming  here  ?     1.  Increased  con- 
II.  Q, 


362  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

fidence  in  the  treatment.  I  see,  and,  to  some  extent,  perceive 
its  beneficial  influence.  2.  I  have  more  knowledge  on  the 
subject,  and  shall  be  better  qualified  to  practice  on  myself. 
3.  I  have  strong  purposes  in  regard  to  exercise  and  diet,  which 
I  ought  to  carry  out  conscientiously,  and  which,  carried  out, 
will,  I  think,  be  useful  to  me. 

Have  you  seen  the  statement  about  Dr.  Emory's  health  ? 
I  could  not  refrain  from  tears  at  the  thought  of  losing  him. 
How  ill  can  we  spare  him  ?  I  must  hope  for  the  best.  May 
our  God  spare  him. 

CLXV.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  August  31st,  1847. 

I  have  been  absent  from  home  ever  since  Commencement, 
at  Northampton,  Massachusetts.  My  health  is,  upon  the 
whole,  as  good  as  it  has  been  at  any  time  for  several  years 
past.  I  mean  to  apply  myself  faithfully  to  the  water-cure, 
together  with  the  diet  and  exercise  it  enjoins,  and  then,  if  I 
have  another  such  winter  as  the  last,  I  may  feel  compelled  to 
resort  to  retirement,  and  possibly  to  a  change  of  climate.  I 
do  not  intend  to  press  so  hard  upon  my  constitution  as  I  have 
done  formerly  ;  indeed,  I  might  not  venture  to  do  so  with  im- 
punity. I  have  yet  some  hope  of  finding  improvement  on  my 
present  plan.  Confined  as  you  are  to  the  house,  and  often 
to  the  bed,  you  could  hardly  realize  the  propriety  of  my  com- 
plaints while  I  am  able  to  walk,  as  I  have  several  times  of 
late,  three  or  four  miles  before  breakfast,  and  eight  or  ten  dur- 
ing the  day.  I,  indeed,  have  much  more  of  general  strength 
than  I  have  of  power  of  the  nerves  and  brain.  I  can  do 
much  more  of  work  than  of  study.  My  protracted  infirmi- 
ties— so  much  strife  against  so  much  weakness — have  given 
me  a  strong  desire  for  repose  and  exemption  from  responsibil- 
ity. Yet  I  do  not  desire  to  shun  any  burden  which  I  may 
be  able  to  bear.  I  would  gladly  persevere  to  the  end  of  life, 
and  "cease  at  once  to  work  and  live."  I  should  probably 


THE     BRIGHT     SIDE.  363 

soon  grow  weary  of  retirement  should  even  a  small  measure 
of  health  return.  Upon  the  whole,  I  wait  to  see  what  the 
Master  shall  ordain,  crying  in  spirit,  I  trust,  "Lord,  what 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  I  infer  from  your  letter  that 
your  health  is  not  materially  worse  than  formerly.  This  is 
a  great  mercy,  especially  as  you  are  yet  able  to  enjoy  life. 
Your  cheerful,  trustful  temperament  and  habit  is,  in  your  sit- 
uation, of  more  value  than  a  fortune,  and  they  call  for  more 
gratitude.  May  we  have  hearts  to  render  unto  God  accord- 
ing to  all  his  loving  kindnesses.  How  many  blessings  are 
compatible  with  a  state  of  health  which  never  leaves  us  a 
moment  of  freedom  from  pain  .'  How  much  can  grace  do  to- 
ward making  tolerable  the  least  desirable  conditions  in  life  ! 
I  rejoice  to  hear  that  sister  Lucy  is  in  good  health.  It  seems 
that,  contrary  to  her  wont,  she  has  been  ill.  It  was  perhaps 
well  that  you  should  have  this  opportunity  of  ascertaining 
anew  how  important  she  is  to  you. 

CLXVI.  TO  MRS.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middlctown,  Oct.  19th,  1847. 

I  received  your  letter  (joint  letter)  in  due  season. 
I  think  brother's  nice  little  farm  will  do  him  good  in  more 
ways  than  one.  It  will  draw  him  out  when  unable  to  visit 
any  more  distant  place,  and  so,  besides  giving  him  a  little 
exercise,  will  bring  him  into  the  open  air  frequently,  which 
is  the  next  best  thing,  and  for  him  it  may  be  the  very  best. 
So  far  as  I  can  gather,  he  is  not  materially  worse  that  he  was 
a  few  years  since.  Add  to  this,  that  his  cheerfulness  refuses 
to  desert  him,  that  he  is  placed  above  want,  and  so  above  the 
necessity  of  exertion,  and,  above  all,  that  he  has  faith  in  God, 
and  I  am  unable  to  perceive  what  material  ingredient  of  hap- 
piness is  denied  him.  Review  God's  mercies  to  this  inveter- 
ate, hopeless  invalid.  "  Food  and  raiment  convenient" — "  a 
place  where  to  lay  his  head"  (better  off' than  the  Master) — 
a  farm  about  as  large  as  that  of  Cincinnatus — a  happy  home, 


364  LIFE     AND     LETTKRS. 

and  a  good  wife — power  to  interest  himself  in  all  matters  of 
public  or  social  moment — love  of  conversation  and  of  society 
— good  society  to  enjoy  —  glorious  hopes — heaven  near  at 
hand,  with  the  assurance  that,  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst, 
it  can  only  force  him  away  from  the  world,  where  he  enjoys 
much,  in  spite  of  reverses,  into  the  world  where  he  will  enjoy 
infinite  good  eternally.  Not  so  bad,  after  all.  I  am  too  often 
anxious  about  this  man.  I  fear  his  becoming  worse,  or  that 
he  will  soon  be  taken  from  us.  All  this  may  happen,  but 
what  then  ?  Let  us  look  often  to  the  luminous  side  of  things. 
"We  shall  be  better  as  well  as  happier  for  it.  After  all,  a  true, 
intelligent  Christian  can  not  very  easily  be  made  wretched. 
I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mason  are  a  comfort  to 
you.  I  have  a  high  regard  for  them,  and  rejoice  in  their  wel- 
fare  

My  family  is  well.  Little  Henry  is  an  uncommonly  fair, 
fine  boy,  as  good  as  possible,  and  as  huge  in  his  day  as  his 
father.  Mrs.  Olin  would  rejoice  to  bring  him  to  see  you. 
We  send  much  love  to  you  both. 

CLXVIl.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  Dec.  1st,  1847. 

I  will  try,  amid  the  bustle  and  pressure  of  the  last  day 
of  the  term,  to  write  you  a  few  lines,  which  Mr.  Johnson 
offers  to  bear  to  you.  My  health  has  been  better  for  some 
months  past  than  for  any  similar  period  since  I  have  been 
in  my  present  position,  and  better  than  it  was  for  several 
years  previous  to  my  coming  here.  I  think  myself  much  in- 
debted to  the  cold  water  system  and  regimen.  I  began  last 
spring  to  take  the  shower-bath  on  rising  in  the  morning.  In 
the  month  of  August,  I  went  to  the  establishment  in  North- 
ampton, where  I  attended  to  the  process  with  all  diligence 
during  the  vacation.  Since  the  first  of  September,  I  have, 
for  the  most  part,  omitted  the  "  packing,"  which,  though  a 
very  essential  part  of  the  practice,  I  could  not  attend  to  sat- 


HYDROPATHY DOMESTIC  REGARDS.    365 

isfaclorily.  I  have  still  taken  three  baths  per  day.  I  have 
followed  up  the  dietetic  regimen  also,  and  have  taken  vig- 
orous exercise  daily,  chiefly  by  walking  four  miles  between 
half  past  five  and  half  past  six  o'clock  every  morning  —  a 
transaction  which  is  nearly  completed  at  break  of  day.  It 
requires  some  resolution  and  self-denial  to  carry  this  system 
through,  especially  in  the  winter ;  but  the  reward  is  suffi- 
cient to  encourage  perseverance  in  the  face  of  many  difficul- 
ties. I  expect  to  go  to  New  York  in  a  day  or  two,  and  de- 
vote my  vacation  of  eight  weeks  to  the  water-cure  in  a  reg- 
ular establishment,  where  I  may  have  the  advice  of  a  physi- 
cian skilled  in  this  practice.  Mrs.  Olin,  of  course,  will  ac- 
company me,  and  spend  the  time  at  her  father's.  She  is  in 
good  health,  as  also  our  little  boy.  He  has  grown  to  be  very 
interesting,  and  has  become  a  chief  personage  in  our  house- 
hold. He  is  very  large  of  his  age,  and  uncommonly  devel- 
oped— one  of  the  finest,  noblest  little  fellows  in  all  babydom. 
Mrs.  Olin  desires  very  much  to  bring  him  to  visit  his  kindred 
in  Vermont,  but  when  will  this  be  possible  ?  When  I  left 
Poultney,  five  years  ago  last  July,  I  little  thought  that  so  long 
a  period  would  elapse  before  I  should  revisit  it.  All  my  time, 
however,  has  been  occupied — much  of  it,  indeed,  with  sick- 
ness, but  this  only  laid  an  additional  burden  on  the  seasons 
of  comparative  health.  My  vacations  have  been  especially 
busy,  and  I  can  not  foresee  when  they  will  be  otherwise. 
Still,  I  hope  and  expect  to  visit  you,  God  permitting,  within 
the  next  year  or  so.  I  feel  the  strongest  desire  to  do  so,  and 
will  try  to  shape  my  affairs  to  such  an  issue.  I  feel  not  a  lit- 
tle inclined  to  make  the  journey  this  winter,  but  it  seerns  to 
be  my  duty  to  prosecute  this  water-cure  to  better  effect  than 
it  can  be  done  at  home,  and  the  vacation  is  my  only  time  for 
it.  Then  I  could  not  possibly  bring  Mrs.  Olin  and  the  baby 
at  this  season — the  navigation  closed,  &c. — and  without  them 
my  visit  would  lose  much  of  its  interest.  I  must  postpone, 
trusting  to  the  propitious  future  for  a  more  convenient  time. 


366  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

Formerly  I  had  but  too  much  of  unwelcome  leisure  ;  now  I 
must  use  my  little  but  unexpected  health  to  some  serious  pur- 
pose. I  am,  after  all,  chiefly  careful  on  this  point.  Eter- 
nity will  give  scope  for  repose,  unless  something  better  than 
rest  is  in  reserve  for  us  beyond  the  grave.  Time  never  seem- 
ed so  fleeting  to  me.  It  is,  indeed,  a  part  of  eternity,  and 
in  that  light  I  habitually  contemplate  it.  Thus  regarded,  it 
no  longer  seems  short,  nor  can  its  rapid  flight  awaken  any 
regret  except  for  misimprovement.  After  all,  are  we  likely 
to  do  any  better  in  this  respect  ?  We  seem  to  me  to  be 
thrown  wholly  upon  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  and,  trust- 
ing heartily  in  that,  it  boots  little  whether  our  days  be  few 
or  many.  We  have  lived  long  enough  for  all  truly  valuable 
ends  when  we  have  fully  believed  in  Christ.  God  has  oth- 
er designs  in  our  stay,  but  we  may  be  quite  satisfied  to  dis- 
miss all  anxieties  so  long  as  we  keep  ourselves  in  the  faith. 
A  good  doctrine  this,  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  but  how  es- 
pecially adapted  to  minister  consolation  to  you  in  your  long 
confinement.  I  trust  that  you  are  free  from  all  anxiety  about 
results  or  times,  arid  that  you  are  patiently  and  cheerfully 
waiting  for  the  winding  up  of  this  enigmatical  drama  of  your 
life. 

CLXVIII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  OLIN. 

Twiggs  County,  Georgia,  Dec.  31st,  1847. 

Nearly  twenty  years  have  elapsed  since  a  letter  has  passed 
between  us.  As  I  was  looking  over  some  of  my  papers  to- 
day, I  stumbled  upon  some  dozen  of  your  old  letters,  written 
at  different  periods  between  1819  and  1828,  the  re-perusal 
of  which  has  awakened  in  my  bosom  many  pleasing  remem- 
brances, and  I  feel  irresistibly  compelled  to  sit  down  and 
write  you  a  few  hasty  lines.  Were  I  to  know  that  the  peru- 
sal of  them  would  afford  rto  particular  satisfaction  to  yourself, 
I  could  not  still  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  giving  vent  to  the 
feelings  of  the  present  moment.  There  is  something  pleasant 


RETROSPECT.  367 


in  calling  to  mind  the  friendships  of  our  younger  days,  and 
something  melancholy  also,  as  age  advances,  in  casting  our 
eye  over  the  long  interval  which  lies  hetween  the  present 
and  the  period  of  our  youthful  associations.  But  why  should 
I  say,  the  long  interval  ?  Though,  as  to  ourselves,  we  may 
speak  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  yet  how  soon  have  the  years 
glided  by  ! — a  hand's-breadth — a  tale  that  is  told — a  hurried 
dream — this  is  all !  It  was  but  yesterday  that  we  formed 
our  academic  acquaintance,  and  shortly  after  renewed  our 
friendly  associations  in  a  Southern  clime.  Another  day  and 
we  shall  have  done  with  the  noise,  and  bustle,  and  change  of 
earth.  Thank  God  that  it  is  so  !  We  would  not  live  alway. 
Why  should  the  haste  of  time  awaken  melancholy  emotions, 
so  that,  by  the  grace  of  God,  life's  great  end  is  achieved — 
some  good  done  for  our  day  and  generation,  and  a  preparation 
made  for  rest  in  heaven  ? 

Your  history,  for  many  years  past,  has  not  been  altogether 
unknown,  and  certainly  not  uninteresting  to  me.  I  have 
known  something  of  your  travels,  your  afflictions,  your  labors 
and  successes.  I  feel  truly  thankful  that  your  life  (at  one 
time  so  seriously  threatened  by  disease)  has  been  prolonged, 
and  that  your  improved  health  has  allowed  you  to  move  on 
in  useful  labors.  I  trust  your  spiritual  health  has  become 
more  and  more  established,  and  that  much  of  "  the  joy  of  the 
Lord,"  which  is  His  people's  "  strength,"  has  been  your  daily 
possession. 

It  might  seem  hardly  worth  while  to  trouble  you  with  the 
items  of  my  little  history.  The  last  time  we  met  was  in 
Augusta.  From  that  time  till  the  present  I  have  been  va- 
riously employed,  sometimes  in  itinerant,  sometimes  in  pas- 
toral labors,  as  the  calls  of  Zion  seemed  to  demand.  My 
health  has  continued  uniformly  feeble,  yet  I  have  never  been 
entirely  laid  aside  from  my  labors.  Preaching  has  been  my 
business  and  my  delight,  and  though  I  have  not  enjoyed  that 
measure  of  success  which  I  could  have  desired,  yet  I  trust 


368  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

my  labors  have  not  been  altogether  in  vain.*  In  1835  my 
first  wife,  whom  you  knew,  left  me  for  a  better  world.  In 
December,  1840,  I  was  married  the  second  time,  and  to  one 
whose  excellences,  if  you  knew  her,  you  would  riot  fail  to  ap- 
preciate. I  wish  you  were  sitting  with  us  to-night  at  our 
quiet  fireside.  I  have  been  residing  in  Twiggs  county  for 
the  last  seven  years,  but,  yielding  to  the  earnest  solicitations 
of  the  Baptist  Church  in  La  Grange,  Troup  county,  and  the 
advice  of  many  brethren,  I  expect  to  remove  to  that  place  in 
a  few  days.  I  fear  the  increased  labors  that  will  fall  upon 
my  hands,  but  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  I  have  resolved  to 
go  forward. 

I  have  two  sons  living.  One  is  now  in  his  twenty-second 
year.  He  is  now  able  to  manage  my  farm.  The  other  is  in 
his  twentieth  year.  Well,  if  the  sprouts  are  so  large,  the 
tree  must  be  getting  old.  Just  so.  In.  less  than  a  month  I 
shall  be  forty-seven  ;  just  such  a  person  as,  when  a  boy,  I  was 
wont  to  call  an  old  man.  But  enough  of  all  this.  Are  you 
not  ready  to  vow  vengeance  for  this  intrusion  ?  If  you  will 
take  revenge  by  giving  me  some  items  of  your  own  history, 
or  of  any  thing  else  you  may  choose  to  communicate,  I  shall 
be  satisfied ;  and  if  your  many  and  important  engagements 
should  deny  this,  I  shall  still  be  satisfied,  knowing  that  si- 
lence is  not  always  forgetfulness,  and  that  the  indulgence  of 
our  private  feelings  must  often  give  place  to  public  duties. 
Grace,  mercy,  and  peace  be  with  you. 
As  ever,  your  sincere  friend, 

C.  D.  MALLORY. 


REVIEW     OF     LIFE.  369 


CLXIX.  TO  THE  REV.  CHARLES  MALLORY. 

Middletown,  January  22d,  1848. 

It  was  an  unexpected  pleasure  to  hear  from  you  after  an 
interruption  in  our  correspondence  of  nearly  or  quite  twenty 
years.  Whose  was  the  fault  of  breaking  off  our  epistolary  in- 
tercourse ?  If  it  was  mine,  I  can  be  at  no  loss  for  an  apol- 
ogy. It  is  satisfactory  to  know  that  there  never  was  any  dif- 
ference between  us — never  any  reason,  therefore,  for  this  long 
suspension  of  salutations.  I  was  compelled,  as  early  as  1828, 
to  leave  Georgia,  on  account  of  my  health,  and  though  I  re- 
turned for  two  years,  I  never  regained  any  vigor  to  encour- 
age me  to  resume  correspondence  with  my  friends,  which  had 
been  quite  interrupted.  My  stay  of  three  years  and  a  half 
in  Virginia  was  a  perpetual  struggle  with  disease  ;  and  when 
I  went  to  Europe  in  1837, 1  had  not  a  single  correspondent 
on  my  list.  I  think  it  was  nearly  three  years  before  I  pre- 
sumed to  write  a  letter,  except  to  my  own  family  or  on  bus- 
iness. This,  of  course,  put  an  end  to  all  my  intimacies 
which  depended  on  letters  ;  and  I  have  never,  except  in  one 
or  two  instances,  regained  them.  With  feeble  and  interrupt- 
ed health  at  best,  I  have  always  found  my  hands  filled  with 
work.  In  self-vindication  I  will  say,  that  I  feel  the  most 
lively  interest  in  my  old  friends — that  I  rejoice  to  hear  of 
their  well-doing,  and  that  it  would  give  me  peculiar  happi- 
ness to  return,  as  far  as  may  be,  to  former  habits  of  epistola- 
ry sociability.  I  have  nearly  lost  all  my  college  acquaint- 
ances. None  of  them  are  near  me,  nor  have  I  any  corre- 
spondence with  any  of  them.  This  is  lamentable,  and  what 
I  thought  would  never  happen.  My  long  apology  has  near- 
ly told  you  all  that  you  will  care  to  know  of  my  history  since 
I  left  the  South.  I  returned  to  the  United  States  at  the  end 
of  1840,  not  much  better  in  health  than  I  was  in  1837.  I 
had,  however,  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  come  to  my 
present  situation  in  1842,  and  I  have  continued  to  labor  on 


370  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

with  many  interruptions  to  the  present  time.  Until  the  pres- 
ent winter,  I  have  had  attacks  of  ague  and  fever  every  year. 
I  have  been  able  to  study  but  little,  and  am  any  thing  but  a 
literary  man.  I  preach  occasionally,  but  have  been  compel- 
led to  give,my  strength  to  the  duties  of  my  office.  The  in- 
stitution has  continued  to  struggle  with  great  pecuniary  em- 
barrassments, now  but  partially  relieved.  My  health  for  the 
last  half  year  has  been  better  than  for  a  long  time  before. 
I  ascribe  this  change  to  cold  water,  which  I  use  freely  on 
hydropathic  principles.  You  are  probably  aware  that  I  lost 
my  wife  in  Naples,  in  1839.  I  married  again,  four  years  since, 
in  a  way  to  promote  my  happiness,  as  far  as  such  a.  connec- 
tion can.  To  add  to  my  domestic  satisfactions,  we  have  a  fine 
boy,  nine  months  old. 

Last  year  I  visited  Europe  the  second  time,  on  account  of 
my  health  and  to  attend  the  Evangelical  Alliance  :  an  at- 
tempt to  do  good,  which,  so  far  as  this  country  is  concerned, 
was  defeated  by  an  absurd  attempt  to  make  it  an  engine  to 
act  against  slavery.  This  was  in  opposition  to  the  wishes  of 
the  great  majority  of  the  Convention,  both  European  and 
American  ;  but  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  fervent,  blind 
philanthropy,  which  would  be  consulted,  and  which,  unheed- 
ed, might  have  been  able  to  thwart  all  our  plans.  They 
were,  in  fact,  thwarted  by  our  attempt  to  conciliate.  In  this 
country  the  enterprise  had  become  strictly  impracticable  by 
this  alliance  with  anti-slavery.  What  is  to  be  the  end  of 
this  great  plague  ?  Opposition  to  it  ruins  every  thing,  and 
friendship  for  it  is  impossible.  I  sometimes  think  God  in- 
tends to  make  us  feel  the  curse  in  every  way  till  some  end 
be  found.  Does  public  sentiment  remain  nearly  as  it  was  in 
Georgia  ?  I  fear  that  imprudent  interference  from  this  quar- 
ter has  done  much  evil,  and  perhaps  still  does.  The  Meth- 
odists have  been  made  the  chief  sufferers  so  far.  No  one  has 
individually  suffered  more  than  I  have,  and  yet  I  could  not 
conscientiously  act  otherwise  than  I  did  in  the  case  of  Bish- 


REVIEW    OF     LIFE.  371 

op  Andrew.  I  love  that  excellent  man,  but  I  thought  his 
conduct  a  violation  of  the  spirit  of  the  compact  between 
Northern  and  Southern  Methodists,  the  true  intent  of  which 
was  protection  to  the  South  against  interference  with  their 
rights,  and  to  the  North  against  the  ministry  of  slavehold- 
ers among  them.  This  business  has  cost  me  most  of  my  dear- 
est friends,  for  my  strongest  attachments  were  formed  at  the 
South.  I  trust,  however,  that  time  may  modify  the  feelings 
of  good  men,  and  that  some  return  of  old  sympathies  may  be 
expected  from  the  lapse  of  years.  Is  not  our  old  friend,  the 
Rev.  C.  P.  Beman,  in  La  Grange  ?  If  so,  be  so  kind  as  to 
offer  to  him  my  salutations.  I  have  a  high  respect  for  him. 
What  a  delightful  anticipation  is  that  which  assures  us  of 
the  meeting  of  all  Christian  friends  in  heaven  !  The  course 
of  events  makes  sad  havoc  with  the  interests  of  friendship 
here  in  this  world.  It  scatters  to  the  four  winds  those  with 
whom  we  should  rejoice  to  spend  our  days,  and  with  whom 
it  would  seem  we  might  cultivate  piety  most  successfully. 
Accidents,  and  misunderstandings,  and  alienations  come  to 
imbitter  the  intimacies  that  distance  and  separation  spare. 
Well,  Heaven  and  its  light  will  explain  as  well  as  restore  all 
things.  Now  is  our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we  began. 
It  seems  only  a  short  time  since  we  parted.  In  all  probabil- 
ity, it  will  be  a  shorter  till  we  meet  again.  I  accustom  my- 
self to  think  of  life  not  as  a  period  by  itself,  but  as  the  be- 
ginning of  eternity,  a  part  of  my  whole  existence.  The  past 
has  had  its  changes  and  modifications.  The  future  will  not 
have  greater.  The  transition  from  infancy  to  manhood,  and 
that  from  impenitence  to  faith,  was  greater  than  will  be 
the  change  from  earth  to  heaven.  Death  is  merged  by  such 
views.  Yet  Christ  has  abolished  death,  which  is  a  more  solid 
basis  of  confidence.  With  affectionate  salutations  to  your 
wife  and  your  sons,  and  with  assurances  of  undiminished  re- 
gard to  yourself,  I  remain,  as  ever,  yours,  S.  OLIN. 


372  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


CLXX.  TO  THE  REV.  CHARLES  POMEROY. 

Rhinebeck,  May  llth,  1848. 

I  received  your  letter  in  March,  I  believe,  or  early  in  April, 
with  much  pleasure — a  pleasure  I  always  feel  on  hearing  of 
your  welfare.  The  kind  sentiments  you  are  pleased  to  ex- 
press were  very  grateful  to  me.  I  do  not  want  compliments 
or  commendations.  I  am  deeply  conscious  of  not  deserving 
them ;  but  credit  for  upright  intentions — for  a  zealous  devo- 
tion of  heart  to  the  interests  of  Christ's  kingdom  and  for  the 
Church,  I  am  just  as  clearly  conscious  of  deserving.  I  con- 
sent to  the  favorable  opinions  of  my  friends  on  this  score,  but 
I  am  able  to  do  but  little  in  giving  to  these  good  aspirations 
any  fit  expression  in  action.  The  state  of  my  health  is  and 
has  been  an  insuperable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  any  consider- 
able usefulness.  It  is  now  above  twenty-seven  years  since  I 
left  college  and  entered  on  active  life.  More  than  half  of 
that  long  period  has  been  wholly  lost,  unless,  perhaps,  so  far 
as  its  moral  influence  is  concerned.  For  so  much  time  I  have 
been  wholly  laid  aside,  while  the  other  half  of  my  life  has 
been  perpetually  interrupted  with  sickness  and  marred  by  in- 
firmity. So  much  of  suffering,  and  infirmity,  and  disappoint- 
ment can  but  have  modified  very  materially  my  intellectual 
capabilities.  I  have  been  unable  to  be  a  student,  though 
strongly  inclined  to  be  so.  As  a  minister,  I  have  done  al- 
most nothing — not  having  preached  so  many  as  half  a  dozen 
sermons  in  the  year  from  the  time  I  entered  on  the  ministry 
in  1824.  You  can  readily  infer  from  this  statement  why 
and  to  how  great  an  extent  I  am  destitute  of  any  proper 
qualifications  for  the  position  I  occupy.  This  abridges  my 
influence,  and  incapacitates  me  for  exertions  to  which  I  am 
always  inclined  to  the  full  extent  of  my  powers.  I  have  to 
move  at  a  moderate,  measured  step.  I  must  omit  many 
things  which  I  would  most  gladly  do.  I  do  at  the  halves 
much  of  what  I  attempt.  I  doubt  not  that  I  fail  in  doing 


LOWLY    VIEWS.  373 

good,  which  more  watchfulness,  wisdom,  and  faith  would  en- 
able me  to  accomplish  ;  but  not,  I  think,  through  any  lack  of 
zeal  for  the  well-being  of  the  interests  intrusted  to  me.  I 
have  hitherto  lived  in  hope  of  health  somewhat  improved. 
I  have  made  some  progress  in  this  respect  during  the  last 
year.  Another  year  of  similar  improvement  would  enable 
me  to  engage  somewhat  effectively  in  the  discharge  of  my 
duties,  so  far  as  my  other  qualifications  would  permit.  What 
I  am  to  expect  time  alone  can  reveal.  I  have  made  a  very 
frank  confession.  How,  under  my  circumstances,  can  I  do 
much  to  forward  the  great  interests  to  which  you  so  forci- 
bly advert  ?  That  much  more  ought  to  be  done,  I  am  so 
deeply  sensible  that  I  would  willingly  give  place  to  a  more 
competent  man.  Gladly,  could  I  see  it  compatible  with  my 
duty,  would  I  seek,  in  obscure,  humble  retirement,  a  sphere 
more  adapted  to  my  state  of  health  and  to  my  qualifications. 
Hitherto  I  have  not  seen  the  way  open.  Nobody  presents 
such  distinct  claims  to  do  my  public  work  that  I  dare  to  give 
it  up.  I  would  do  it  to-day  with  all  my  heart  if  I  thought  I 
could  do  so  innocently.  I  feel  the  whole  mortification  of  do- 
ing my  duties  as  I  am  compelled  to  do  them.  The  place  I 
occupy  wants  a  man  in  body,  mind,  and  spirit.  I  feel  that 
I  am  a  man  in  the  last  respect  only.  I  thank  yeu  in  all  sin- 
cerity for  your  kind  exhortation.  I  long  to  comply  with  all 
the  claims  of  duty.  I  am  not  insensible,  you  may  be  sure, 
but,  without  providential  changes  in  my  behalf,  I  have  the 
heart-sickening  prospect  of  going  on  in  the  old  way.  I  may 
promise  improvement  if  improved  ability  shall  be  conceded  to 
me.  I  love  my  work — I  would  gladly  follow  it  for  life  if  God 
so  will,  but,  with  my  manifold  unfitness  for  so  great  responsi- 
bility, my  prevalent  desire  is  for  release,  if  it  may  please  Him. 
Your  son  has  just  returned  from  his  school.  I  am  sorry 
to  know  that  his  health,  though  now  improved,  has  embar- 
rassed him  during  the  winter.  He  is  a  fine  scholar,  howev- 
er, and  will  find  little  difficulty  in  accomplishing  his  studies. 


374  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

You  have  good  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  his  character  and 
prospects.  I  trust  that  you  will  yet  have  much  comfort  in 
him.  I  am  spending  a  few  days  with  the  venerable  Mrs. 
Garrettson,  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Olin's,  who  is  with  me.  You 
are  no  doubt  well  informed  in  regard  to  the  doings  and  pros- 
pects of  the  General  Conference.  Few  men  are  in  a  position 
to  grieve  more  deeply  than  I  do  over  our  Church  difficulties. 
I  am  unfortunate,  perhaps,  in  not  being  able  to  approve  of 
the  policy  that  we  are  likely  to  pursue,  though  I  concede  fully 
the  purity  and  good  intentions  of  those  who  shape  our  course. 
God  will,  I  trust,  bring  good  out  of  so  much  apparent  evil. 
This  is  my  only  hope.  •  I  have  no  party  spirit.  I  had  no 
hand  in  the  measures  which  the  General  Conference  is,  as  I 
think,  so  unwisely  about  to  abrogate.  I  am  far  from  wish- 
ing myself  a  member  of  the  responsible  body  on  whom  this 
business  devolves,  when  I  must  be  in  a  hopeless  minority,  in- 
capable of  preventing  evil  or  of  doing  good.  May  God  over- 
rule all  to  his  own  glory.  Let  Christ's  cause  prosper.  Let 
the  right  be  done,  and  I  shall  rejoice. 

CLXXI.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK 
(On  the  death  of  President  Emory.) 

Micldletown,  May  25th,  1848. 

In  your  last  letter  to  me  you  intimated  an  intention  to  at- 
tend the  General  Conference,  and  I  have  been  looking  for 
some  notice  of  your  presence  in  Pittsburgh,  to  direct  a  letter 
to  you  there.  The  melancholy  event  which  has  led  me  to 
know  that  you  are  at  home  renders  it  improbable,  I  suppose, 
that  you  will  be  able  to  go  to  Pittsburgh  at  all.  I  there- 
fore forward  this  to  Carlisle,  a  place  the  mention  of  which 
fills  me  with  sadness  so  deep  as  to  disqualify  me  for  writing. 
The  death  of  our  friend  Emory  has  afflicted  me  beyond  what 
I  am  able  to  express,  and  I  am  thrown  back  to  first  princi- 
ples as  the  only  refuge  from  a  sorrow  intense  to  a  very  incon- 
venient degree.  I  have  for  some  years  looked  upon  him  with 


ON    THE     DEATH    OF     PRESIDENT     EMORY.    375 

peculiar  interest  and  high  hopes ;  and  though  his  delicate 
health  had,  perhaps,  prepared  you  and  his  nearest  friends  for 
his  early  dissolution,  I  had  indulged  a  strong  expectation  that 
these  ominous  symptoms  would  pass  away,  and  leave  him, 
if  not  a  healthy,  at  least  a  living,  working  man,  for  many 
years  to  come.  When  I  heard  of  his  sudden  illness  last  au- 
tumn, I  was  utterly  unprepared  for  it,  and  I  now  seem  to  my- 
self as  having  been  in  a  dream,  from  which  the  last  shock 
has  only  awakened  me. 

My  personal  intercourse  with  him  has  been  rather  incon- 
siderable. We  were  not  what  may  be  called  intimate. 
Whether  from  a  measure  of  constitutional  caution  on  his  part, 
or  from  his  not  finding  me  quite  congenial,  I  know  not  how 
it  happened  that  our  relations  fell  short  of  confidential  and 
friendly,  in  the  highest  import  of  these  terms.  I  can,  nev- 
ertheless, truly  say  that  I  loved  him,  and  I  always  desired 
some  nearer  communion  with  him.  I  still  hoped  for  it  to  the 
last,  though  I  now,  perhaps,  enjoy  a  special  satisfaction  in 
knowing  that  my  affection  for  him  was  wholly  unselfish, 
and  very  much  on  public  grounds.  His  parentage,  his  pre- 
cocious wisdom  and  manliness,  gave  him  almost  unexampled 
advantages  for  usefulness  to  the  Church,  and  his  piety  and 
singleness  of  heart  prompted  him  to  make  the  most  of  his 
providential  facilities.  In  this  point  of  view  I  was  accustom- 
ed to  look  upon  him  with  peculiar  interest.  I  think  his  pow- 
er consisted  very  much  in  the  high  development  of  the  qual- 
ities I  have  spoken  of.  His  freedom  from  egotism  made  him 
unconsciously  self-relying.  His  faith  in  truth  and  goodness, 
the  simplicity  of  his  aims,  and  the  elevation  of  his  motives, 
armed  him  with  a  might  to  be  coveted  by  many,  his  equals, 
at  least,  in  all  merely  intellectual  attributes.  You  will  think 
me  rash  in  pretending  to  speak  on  a  subject  with  which  I  am 
necessarily  but  imperfectly  acquainted.  Recollect,  I  only  give 
out  these  as  my  impressions,  and  that  to  you.  How  myste- 
rious is  this  dispensation !  to  use  a  commonplace  expression, 


376  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

which  almost  passes  for  cant.  The  father's  decease  provoked 
the  same  reflection  ;  how  much  more  the  son's  !  How  can 
the  Church  spare  Robert  Emory  ?  Very  well,  no  doubt, 
because  God  is  her  provider  and  chief  Shepherd  ;  but  the 
difficulty  is  not  easy  to  dispose  of  on  other  grounds.  .  .  . 

CLXXII.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  May  26th,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER, — It  is  now  several  months  since  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  you,  and  I  have  become  quite  anxious  to 
hear  of  your  welfare.  From  the  latest  accounts  that  I  have 
had,  verbal  and  indirect,  I  was  led  to  conclude  that  you  were 
not  more  unwell  than  usual  this  spring,  perhaps  a  little  less 
infirm.  This  is  about  the  best  I  may  expect  to  hear  from 
you.  Any  advancement  toward  good,  or  even  tolerable  health, 
must  be  very  slow.  I  am  always  thankful  to  hear  that  you 
hold  your  own.  Even  this  indicates  the  presence  of  consid- 
erable powers  of  resistance,  and,  consequently,  of  vital  energy. 
I  feel  a  desire  that  you  should  live  on  to  old  age,  as  strong  as 
I  could,  were  you  in  a  situation  to  enjoy  life  with  the  highest 
relish.  This  is,  perhaps,  somewhat  unreasonable,  and  may 
even  seem  unkind,  if  our  desires  were  allowed  to  have  some 
influence  over  the  issue  of  the  infirmities  of  our  friends  ;  for 
what  can  be  more  cruel  than  to  desire  to  detain  some  time 
longer  in  this  anxious  world  those  who  are  appointed  to  suf- 
fering here,  but  who  have,  through  grace,  good  title  to  an 
inheritance  with  the  saints  above,  where  the  inhabitants 
never  say,  "  I  am  sick."  Life,  however,  is  always  valuable, 
and  the  afflictions  which,  to  a  hasty  observer,  might  seem  to 
detract  from  its  claims,  are  susceptible  of  being  turned  to  so 
good  account,  that  it  is  not  plain  that  we  should  regard  them 
as  detracting  from,  but  rather  as  enhancing  the  value  of  our 
earthly  being.  Certainly  there  is  enough  in  this  view  to  si- 
lence all  complaints,  and  quell  impatience.  It  is,  at  any 


DEATH    OF    DR.    EMORY.  377 

rate,  enough  for  us  that  we  are  as  our  Master,  and  that  all 
our  changes  are  in  his  merciful,  mighty  hands. 

My  health  is  not  quite  so  vigorous  this  spring  as  it  was 
through  the  autumn  and  winter,  though  I  have  to  be  thank- 
ful that,  for  a  year  or  more,  I  have  not  been  confined  to  my 
bed  a  single  day — a  statement  that  I  could  not  have  made 
in  more  than  ten  years  before.  Little  Stephen  Henry,  now 
thirteen  months  old,  has  been  perfectly  healthy,  and  is  a  very 
fat,  fair-skinned,  lovely  boy.  He  has  generally  been  pro- 
nounced handsome,  though  this  declaration  is  usually  accom- 
panied by  another  that  impairs  its  credibility  not  a  little, 
viz.,  that  he  looks  much  like  his  father.  Both  declarations 
are,  perhaps,  true ;  but  if  so,  certainly  not  independent  of  this 
truth,  that  a  handsome  child  may  strongly  resemble  a  man 
that  is  not  so. 

CLXXIIl.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  OLIN. 

Carlisle,  May  27th,  1848. 

Your  most  kind  letter  was  received  last  night,  and  affected 
me  sensibly  with  rejoicing  that  you  are  still  alive.  Let  me 
say,  also,  how  deeply  penetrated  we  all  are  with  the  spon- 
taneous offerings  of  your  Faculty  in  the  resolutions  sent  to  us. 
As  no  usage  demanded  such  an  utterance,  it  is  the  more  grate- 
ful to  us  all.  The  resolutions  have  been  communicated  to 
the  family,  to  whom,  also,  I  took  the  liberty  of  reading  your 
letter.  It  soothed  and  softened  their  hearts. 

Your  estimate  of  my  dear  friend  is  a  very  just  one,  indeed. 
On  one  point  you  need  correction  :  he  not  only  found  you 
"  congenial,"  but  admired  and  loved  you  fervently  ;  indeed, 
I  am  sure  that  I  have  never  known  him  speak  in  terms  of 
higher  esteem  or  warmer  affection  for  any  man  than  for  your- 
self. Count  him,  then,  among  the  loving  friends  that  you 
are  to  meet  in  heaven.  O  prceclarum  diem,  quam  ad  illud, 
divinum  animorum  concilium  coetum  que  profidscamur ! 

You  will  hardly  think  that  I  exaggerate  when  I  assure 


378  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

you  that  Robert  was  the  best  and  purest  man  that  I  have 
ever  known.  His  aim  was  so  entirely  single,  that  his  whole 
life  was  clarified  by  it.  His  religious  experience,  since  the 
memorable  manifestation  of  the  Spirit  which  he  received  in 
1835,  after  days  of  solitary  wrestling  with  God,  has  been  al- 
ways of  the  most  satisfactory  tenor.  On  the  question  of  his 
acceptance  with  Christ  there  has  never  been  any  doubt  or 
darkness ;  and  so  it  continued  to  the  very  last.  I  reached 
Baltimore  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  there,  Thursday,  llth  of 
May,  but  he  was  so  weak  that  I  could  not  see  him  until  the 
Friday  morning.  On  that  day  and  the  two  following  I  had 
various  conversations  with  him,  but  all  very  brief,  as  he  was 
utterly  prostrated.  "  My  peace  is  abounding,  clear,"  said 
he ;  "  it  has  been  great  during  all  my  sickness,  and  is  still 
so  great,  and  so  unbroken,  that  I  wonder  at  it  myself."  There 
was  no  false  confidence — no  want  of  self-scrutiny ;  but  he  had 
Christ  in  his  heart — his  life  had  been  hid  with  Christ  in  God, 
and  Christ  was  with  him  in  his  dying  hours.  On  Wednes- 
day he  made  his  will  (i.  e.,  a  new  one,  some  changes  being 
necessary),  and  afterward,  as  if  loth  that  his  last  strength 
should  be  devoted  to  worldly  matters,  he  bore  testimony  to  all 
that  were  present  of  the  love  of  God,  and  of  his  sure  hope  in 
Christ.  On  Thursday  he  was  still  more  feeble  ;  and  on 
Thursday  night,  at  half  past  eight,  he  quietly  went  to  sleep 
in  Jesus.  So  may  we  rest  in  Christ. 

It  is,  indeed,  mysterious  that  God  should  thus  call  away 
those  who  seem  fitted  to  be  his  most  available  instruments. 
"  His  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  his  path  in  the  great  waters." 
Yet  he  told  his  disciples,  "  What  I  do  ye  know  not  now,  but 
ye  shall  know  hereafter  ;"  and,  perhaps,  one  day  we  shall  see 
light  in  his  light,  even  upon  this  the  darkest  of  his  dealings 

with  us One  of  Emory's  last  anxieties  was  in 

regard  to  the  division  of  the  Church  property.  I  told  him 
that  I  thought  some  equitable  plan  would  certainly  be  adopt- 
ed, and  he  thanked  God  most  fervently  for  the  prospect.  It 


FALKNER'S  ISLAND.  379 

looks  ill  now  for  the  realization  of  his  hopes  and  mine ;  but 
I  hope  still  for  the  best. 

You  say  nothing  about  your  health.     I  infer  that  it  is 
mended,  but  should  like  to  hear  some  definite  information 

from  you  on  the  subject I  wish  I  could  see  you 

more.  Emory  was  my  closest  friend — heart  to  heart.  I 
trusted  him  far  more  than  I  did  myself.  Dear  Professor 
Caldwell,  too,  is  near  his  end.  How  bravely  he  writes,  look- 
ing death  in  the  face  daily  without  fear.  He,  too,  lives  in 
Christ,  and  Christ  lives  in  him.  His  sky  is  clear.  He  has 
no  expectation  of  living  until  Commencement,  and,  indeed, 
I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  to  hear  of  his  death  any  day. 
Please  write. 

Affectionately,  J.  R.  M'CLINTOCK. 

CLXXIV.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Sachem's  Head,  Friday,  August  25th,  1848. 
.  ...  I  went  out  in  a  sail-boat  yesterday  to  Falkner's 
Island,  five  miles  distant,  where  there  is  a  light-house  and  a 
house  for  the  keeper.  It  contains  about  four  acres  ind  a 
half,  rises  forty  feet  abruptly  above  the  sea,  and  is  very  fer- 
tile, though  no  culture  will  make  trees  grow  in  so  windy  an 
exposure.  The  keeper  is  spoken  of  in  the  highest  terms. 
He  is  a  Methodist — has  been  there  twenty-nine  years — has 
raised  a  family,  and  recently  married  a  wife  from  the  shore. 
Was  it  love  of  the  man  or  of  matrimony  that  induced  her  to 
choose  so  solitary  a  residence  in  preference  to  the  solitude  of 
maidenhood  ?  There  is,  after  all  the  denials  of  coy  spinsters, 
a  strong  proclivity  to  marriage,  and  no  wonder,  for  it  is  a  very 
good  thing,  as  I  can  testify.  I  came  near  agreeing  for  rooms 
on  the  island  for  next  year.  I  propose  to  take  you  and  Hen- 
ry over  there  next  summer,  if  we  live  so  long — to  forbid  all 
letters,  papers,  &c. — fairly  to  cut  the  world  for  a  fortnight  or 
so.  It  would  be  worth  while  to  look  on  from  a  distance  and 
see  the  planet  spin  in  its  solitude — to  see  how  it  would  get 


380  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

on  without  us.  Should  it  do  well,  we  might  get  a  good  les- 
son of  humility  with  the  experiment.  Should  our  presence 
on  the  main  be  found  indispensable,  we  might  be  sent  for  by 
a  boat,  or  signalized  from  the  Head  or  the  Point.  I  merely 
throw  out  the  suggestion  in  a  general  way.  We  may  have 
time  to  mature  it  in  the  coming  twelve  months. 

This  morning  a  party  of  four  of  us  went  seven  miles  in  an- 
other direction,  to  Thimble  Islands,  three  hundred  and  six- 
ty-five in  number,  a  fishing.  I  speak  of  our  intention.  We 
caught  no  fish.  The  wind  rose,  and  we  were  fain  to  dodge 
in  among  the  islands  for  shelter,  and  I  got  both  wet  and  sea- 
sick at  that.  We  came  home  to  a  late,  mean  dinner,  not  a 
little  trying  to  one's  philosophy.  This  brings  down  the  auto- 
biography to  Friday,  6  P.M 

CLXXV.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  September  8th,  1848. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  from  you  by  Mr.  Pomeroy, 
whose  account  induces  me  to  think  that  you  are  quite  as  well 
as  you  usually  have  been  for  the  last  year  or  two. 
I  trust  that  you  may  long  be  spared  to  those  who  love  you, 
so  long  as  life  continues  to  be  an  enjoyment  to  you,  if  so  long 
it  may  please  the  all-wise  Disposer  of  events  to  spare  you 
from  your  better  inheritance 

My  family  are  well.  They  are  always  so,  which  is  a  great 
mercy.  Our  little  boy,  now  sixteen  months  old,  has  become 
an  athletic,  dread-naught  fellow,  chiefly  intent  on  using  his 
limbs,  and  on  turning  every  thing  upside  down.  He  is,  of 
course,  a  great  pet,  and  occupies  a  large  space  in  our  house 
and  hearts.  I  am  full  of  solicitude  that  he  shall  be  trained 
aright — that  he  become  a  good  and  wise  man,  and  a  true 
Christian.  There  is  little  probability  that  I  shall  live  to  see 
him  one  or  the  other.  God,  however,  hears  prayer,  and  remem- 
bers it  of  a  long  time.  Will  you  not  help  me  to  lay  up  guaran- 
tees in  heaven  in  behalf  of  the  welfare  of  this  little  immortal  ? 


LIFE     OF     REV.   JESSE     LEE.  381 

My  health  has  been  very  indifferent  during  the  past  sum- 
mer. I  became  enfeebled  in  May,  and  though  I  was  never 
kept  away  from  my  little  curriculum  of  official  duties,  I  found 
the  performance  of  them  a  struggle.  It  is  so  with  all  I  do, 
and  so  it  must  be.  I  can  not  pretend  to  do  half  work  ;  what 
I  attempt  costs  me  dear.  Active  official  life  becomes,  under 
such  circumstances,  not  a  little  burdensome.  I  often  sigh 
for  liberty  to  retreat  from  so  many  cares  and  labors.  I  am 
unfit  for  them.  I  do  nothing  well.  I  am  always  dissatisfied 
with  my  own  attempts.  Could  I  see  a  better  man  to  take 
my  place  I  would  gladly  renounce  it,  and  fly  away  to  some 
nook  where  I  might  eat  cheap  bread  in  quietness.  But,  so 
far  as  I  see,  I  must  work  on.  I  can  not  achieve  much,  but 
must  do  what  I  can — must  be  humble,  and  content  to  win  no 
honors,  for  honors  come  not  to  one  whose  infirmities  enter 
into  and  mar  every  effort.  "  Not  my  will !"  is  my  cry.  If 
I  may  know  that  I  am  in  the  path  of  duty,  I  will  be  content. 
All  the  rest  is  as  nothing.  God  can  overrule  all  to  His  glo- 
ry, the  weak  as  well  as  the  strong. 

"We  get  on  quietly  here.  We  have  even  moderate  pros- 
perity. I  think  we  educate  as  well  as  any  other  college  in 
the  land.  Our  students  are,  as  a  body,  better  than  others, 
better  every  way.  This  is  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  me. 
Do  not  imagine  that  I  am  tired  of  doing.  I  am  only  weary 
of  half  doing.  .  Yet  even  this  shall  be  welcome,  if  God  so 
will. 

CLXXVl.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  LEE 
(On  the  Life  and  Times  of  the  Rev.  Jesse  Lee). 

Middletown,  Sept.  llth,  1848. 

I  assure  you  I  felt  very  much  obliged  by  the  receipt  of 
your  "Life  and  Times  of  the  Rev.  Jesse  Lee,"  which  I  re- 
ceived in  the  month  of  June  by  the  hands  of  Dr.  Holdich.  I 
was  highly  gratified  by  such  a  proof  of  your  kind  recollection 
of  me  through  a  season  so  long  and  tempestuous,  and  also  by 


382  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

the  possession  of  a  book,  from  which  I  felt  sure  of  deriving 
both  pleasure  and  profit.  I  was  unable,  under  the  joint  press- 
ure of  many  avocations  and  many  infirmities,  to  do  more  than 
glance  over  a  few  of  its  pages  here  and  there,  which  was, 
however,  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  the  work  was  well  done. 
About  a  week  ago  I  began  the  book  in  order,  and,  partly  by 
the  help  of  Mrs.  Olin,  have  gone  over  the  most  of  it.  I  feel 
that  I  need  not  wait  to  complete  the  reading  before  thank- 
ing you  for  having  added  a  work  of  solid  worth  to  our  Meth- 
odist literature.  I  regard  it  as  one  of  the  three  best  biogra- 
phies that  American  Methodism  has  produced.  I  refer  to 
Professor  Holdich's  Life  of  Fisk,  and  Robert  Emory's  Life 
of  his  father,  besides  which  I  have  read  nothing  to  compare 
with  your  new  work — I  mean  in  this  line  of  writing.  I  trust 
it  will  have  a  wide  circulation.  It  will,  I  am  quite  confi- 
dent, in  the  Church  South.  It  ivould  throughout  the  whole 
Methodist  family,  especially  in  New  England,  but  for  the  ca- 
lamitous state  of  things  among  us.  This  may  turn  out  better 
than  my  fears,  and  a  liberality  may  be  manifested  hardly  to 
be  expected  in  these  days  of  strong  prejudice  and  excitement. 
At  any  rate,  we  may  trust  that  these  days  will  ere  long  be 
followed  by  those  more  propitious  to  candor  and  the  return 
of  brotherly  sentiments.  Then,  I  am  confident,  your  Life  of 
the  venerated  introducer  of  Methodism  into  New  England 
will  be  read  and  appreciated.  If  the  time  shall  come  when 
Jean  promote  its  circulation  and  reputation,  it  will  certainly 
afford  me  great  pleasure  to  do  so.  My  appreciation  of  the 
book,  and  my  unfeigned  regard  for  the  author,  will  make  this 
at  once  a  duty  and  a  pleasure. 

I  hardly  dare  trust  myself  to  speak  of  the  distressing  con- 
dition of  our  mutual  Church  relations.  My  feelings  upon 
this  subject  are  deep  and  unappeasable.  I  do  not  allow  my- 
self to  doubt  that  the  chief  actors  in  this  sad  business  have 
been  actuated  by  upright  intentions,  but  that  there  has  been 
a  great  want  of  prudence,  intelligence,  and  moderation,  I  also 


NORTH    AND    SOUTH.  383 

can  not  doubt.  It  is  a  calamity — a  reproach  to  our  common 
Christianity,  for  Northern  and  Southern  Methodism  to  assume 
and  maintain  hostile  attitudes.  They  are  so  unquestionably 
and  essentially  one  in  history,  character,  and  objects — in  all 
but  that  one  feature,  which  neither  of  them  can  do  much  to 
remove  or  even  modify — that,  with  a  moderate  share  of  char- 
ity and  forbearance,  the  parties  might  have  kept  far  from 
our  present  deplorable  position.  This  controversy  and  schism 
has  cost  me  more  than  any  other  man — has  cost  me  bitter 
tears  and  heartfelt  anguish — has  cost  me  my  earliest,  oldest, 
dearest  Christian  friends — all  but  a  good  conscience  and  tbe 
inward  consolations  of  the  Gospel.  I  do  not  find,  however, 
that  the  vote  of  my  brethren  in  the  last  General  Conference 
has  checked  the  flow  of  my  affections.  I  will  fraternize 
with  Southern  Methodists,  if  they  will  allow  me — whether 
they  allow  it  or  not — for  I  can  not  refrain  from  so  doing.  I 
feel  the  same  interest  in  their  prosperity  that  I  ever  did.  I 
do  not  recognize  the  line,  though  I  wished  to  maintain  the 
plan.  I  thank  you  for  your  paper,  with  which  you  have  so 
long  favored  me.  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  hold  such 
intimate  and  frequent  intercourse  with  the  scenes  of  many 
interesting  labors  and  attachments. 

I  am  about  to  publish  a  sermon,  of  which  I  shall  forward 
you  a  copy.  It  is  not  much  worth  your  attention,  but  it  will 
afford  me  the  means  of  expressing  to  an  old  friend  my  abid- 
ing and  affectionate  sense  of  his  merits  and  of  his  various  at- 
tentions to  me. 

CLXXVII.  TO  THE  SAME. 

Middletown,  September  13th,  1848. 

REVEREND  AND  DEAR.  BROTHER, — I  wrote  to  you  on  Mon- 
day last,  to  thank  you  for  your  interesting  "  Life  and  Times 
of  Jesse  Lee,"  which  you  forwarded  to  me  from  Pittsburgh, 
but  which  feeble  health  and  manifold  engagements  did  not 
allow  me  to  read  till  within  the  last  ten  days.  I  will  not 


384  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

add  any  thing  here  to  what  I  said  in  that  letter  in  regard  to 
the  impressions  made  upon  me  by  that  valuable  contribution 
to  American  Methodist  biography.  I  learned,  just  after  the 
departure  of  my  letter  for  Richmond,  that  you  are  absent,  or, 
what  is  better,  that  you  are  to  proceed  northward,  "  as  far  as 
Boston."  This  letter  is  to  invite  you  to  pay  me  a  visit  in 
Middletown.  You  can  reach  this  place  in  one  day  from  Bos- 
ton. Come  to  Hartford  by  the  rail-road  ;  then  take  a  stage, 
fourteen  miles,  to  my  door,  which  will  gladly  open  to  you  as 
one  of  my  old  cherished  friends,  with  whom  I  hope  to  frater- 
nize throughout  the  pilgrimage  appointed  to  us  in  this  world, 
and  throughout  the  long,  long  ages  of  that  better  world,  where 
ecclesiastical  difficulties,  and  the  untoward  events  that  so 
abound  in  our  present  dwelling-place,  will  not  obtrude  to  sep- 
arate chief  friends.  I  am  very  desirous  of  your  compliance 
with  this'  invitation.  Recent  events  have  created  within  me 
a  want,  which  some  communion  with  my  old  Southern  friends 
would  tend  more  directly  to  satisfy  than  any  thing  else.  My 
fraternal  relations  with  my  earliest  Christian  associates  have 
received  many  rude  shocks,  but  they  can  bear  them  and  more. 
I  think  they  will  survive  to  the  end,  whatever  befalls  the 
outward  ecclesiastical  bonds  that  formerly  united  us.  I  can 
only  regard  and  pray  for  both  parties,  as  in  God's  favor  as 
well  as  in  my  affection  essentially  one.  Will  you  come  and 
see  me  for  a  few  days  at  my  quiet  home  ?  Mrs.  Olin,  as 
well  as  myself,  will  be  glad  to  see  you  and  greet  you  here. 
Dr.  Holdich  will  also  be  glad  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with 
you.  There  may  be  some  here  and  elsewhere  who  would 
open  their  eyes  to  see  in  Dr.  Bond's  famous  antagonist  "  a 
man  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind,"  and  even  amiable  and 
well-conformed  to  the  humanities  of  civilized,  Christian  life. 
Come,  my  dear  sir,  and  gratify  all  parties  by  a  sight  of  you, 
and  some  refreshing  converse  with  you.  * 

*  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Lee  came  and  spent  several  days  at  Middletown, 
much  to  Dr.  Olin's  gratification. 


PHILOSOPHY    OF     METHODISM.  385 


CLXXVHI.  TO  THE  REV.  ABEL  STEVENS. 

Middletown,  October  9th,  1848. 

.  .  .  .  I  perhaps  feel  less  objection  than  some  others 
may  to  the  "  no  philosophy  of  Methodism."  In  an  import- 
ant sense  this  is  true,  that  is,  it  is  true  as  a  negation,  of  our 
having  set  much  value  upon  philosophical  preaching  or  upon 
dogmas  as  terms  of  church  membership.  Beyond  this,  the 
statement  and  argument  are  baseless.  Wesley  and  his  com- 
peers were  eminently  doctrinal — if  you  please,  were  philo- 

sopliical,  using  that  term,  as seems  to  do,  as  about  the 

same  as  doctrinal.  They  have  this  distinction  as  compared 
with  others.  They  derived  their  doctrines  or  philosophy  from 
the  Bible,  not  from  the  schools,  and  they  inculcated  several 
of  the  points  most  in  controversy  with  a  frequency  and  urg- 
ency in  these  days  quite  unknown  among  us.  It  was  so  in  this 
country  thirty  years  since.  The  change  is  a  characteristic  of 

our  times The  open  opposers  of  education  have 

had  their  day ;  but  I  have  for  some  time  suspected  that  the 
battle  must  be  fought  again  with  men  who  use  the  power 
given  them  by  intellectual  culture  to  marshal  anew  the  scat- 
tered hosts  who  come  in  disguise  to  battle  for  the  spirit  of  the 
past.  Honest  I  presume  them  to  be,  but  they  do  not  compre- 
hend the  want  of  our  day.  They  do  not  perceive  that  men 
who  run  to  and  fro  in  a  wilderness,  to  arouse  and  evangelize 
its  scattered,  half-tamed  inhabitants,  may  fulfill  their  mission 
by  the  earnest  inculcation  of  two  or  three  fundamental  ideas, 
while  a  pastor,  in  the  existing  state  of  society  and  of  Meth- 
odism, must  bring  to  his  task  another  sort  of  intellectual  fur- 
niture. These  men  feel,  as  we  do,  a  pressing  want,  but  they 
unwisely  look  back  in  quest  of  help  which  is  ready  for  them, 
but  only  on  condition  of  pressing  forward.  The  preach- 
ers who  passed  along  once  in  four  weeks,  setting  the  woods 
of  Maine  and  Vermont  on  fire,  would  speedily  burn  out  and 
set  in  darkness  in  the  very  different  state  of  things  which 
IT.  R 


386  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

now  exists.  God  provided  for  the  times.  He  will  for 
these,  if  we  will  consent  to  be  obedient,  and  co-workers  with 
Him. 

I  fear  what  is  said  of  the  relaxation  of  the  preachers  is  too 
true.  They  are,  I  fear,  less  laborious,  strict,  and  conscientious 
than  the  fathers.  Why  ?  Their  work  allows  them  more 
leisure,  which  they  waste  instead  of  improving  in  study.  If 
they  had  either  the  full  work  of  an  old-fashioned  circuit,  or 
hearts  to  be  studious,  I  think  the  lack  would  be  supplied.  I 
have  appended  to  a  sermon  about  to  be  issued  by  the  book- 
agents,  an  out-speaking  note  on  the  subject  of  study,  which  I 
hope  you  will  like.  It  may  be  thought  imprudent,  but  it 
speaks  my  cherished  sentiments. 

CLXXIX.  TO  MRS.  GARRETTSON* 
(On  her  96th  birth-day). 

Middletown,  October  12th,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  AUNT, — Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  another 
return  of  your  birth-day,  accompanied  as,  through  the  Divine 
mercy,  it  is  with  the  full  possession  and  use  of  those  faculties 
of  body  and  mind  which  minister  to  the  enjoyment,  the  use- 
fulness, and  the  dignity  of  life.  I  am  in  doubt  whether  you 
are  likely  to  prize  very  highly  this  boon  of  protracted  years. 
With  your  deep  experience  of  Divine  things,  your  thoughts 
have  long  been  familiarized  with  the  scenes  so  near  to  us  all, 
and  so  intimately  near  to  the  aged.  I  can  not  doubt  that 

*  This  letter  reached  Mrs.  Garrettson  on  the  morning  of  her  96th 
and  last  birth-day — the  14th  of  October — a  day  on  which  her  relatives 
and  friends  were  wont  to  gather  together  at  her  house,  where  the 
evening  was  spent  in  social  converse  and  religious  exercises,  which 
brought  before  the  mind  a  past  and  a  future  of  "  satisfying  blessed- 
ness." In  the  second  week  of  July  following,  Dr.  Olin  was  summon- 
ed by  telegraph  to  the  dying  bed  of  this  venerable  Christian,  and  the 
thoughts  suggested  by  this  anniversary  of  her  birth  found  place  and 
expansion  in  the  truthful  protraiture  of  character  drawn  in  her  fu- 
neral $ermon. 


A     BIRTH-DAY     LETTER.  387 


death  has  lost  its  terrors  in  your  estimation.  This  world, 
too,  has  few  charms  for  one  so  long  accustomed  to  meditate 
on  the  glories  of  a  hotter,  while  your  practiced  faith  must 
have  gone  far  toward  a  substitution  of  heavenly  contempla- 
tions and  prospects  for  earthly.  I  almost  feel  rebuked  away 
from  this  tender  of  congratulations.  Your  desires  for  heaven 
have  long  since  outnumbered  and  outweighed  those  that  at- 
tract you  to  the  earth,  and  you  rather  need  the  offices  of  those 
friends  who  can  suggest  motives  for  resignation  and  patience 
under  so  long  a  detention  from  your  rest  with  the  glorified 
Savior,  than  greetings  on  the  continuance  of  a  state  of  trial 
which  longs  to  be  merged  in  a  glorious  consummation.  Your 
friends  may  probably  feel  the  strength  of  God's  reasons  for 
your  being  continued  in  the  Church  militant  more  deeply  and 
satisfactorily  than  you  can.  To  many  of  them — to  all  who 
enjoy  the  pleasure  of  occasional  personal  intercourse  with 
you — your  society  is  a  great  privilege  and  a  great  blessing, 
and  their  self-love  would  detain  you  as  long  as  possible  in  this 
lower  world.  The  higher  motives  of  piety  tend  to  strength- 
en this  feeling.  Not  only  are  your  counsels  and  examples 
operating  upon  us  with  the  fullest  force — with  an  ever-in- 
creasing efficiency  with  your  advance  in  age  and  experience 
— but  they  derive  peculiar  power  from  God's  peculiar  deal- 
ings with  you.  You  have  long  since  passed  the  usual  term 
of  human  life,  and  we  must  look  upon  you  as  lent  us  by 
Heaven — as  properly  representing  among  us  the  world  from 
which  you  are  so  strangely  detained.  God  seems  to  speak  to 
us  in  your  stay.  It  is  monumental,  and  arrests  the  attention 
of  the  careless,  while  it  embodies  and  exhibits  the  excellency 
and  power  of  grace  somewhat  like  a  miracle.  God  seems  to 
me  to  have  made  use  of  such  an  instrumentality  in  the  an- 
cient Church.  It  was  not  without  a  most  significant  reason 
that  the  history  of  Anna  was  recorded  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment ;  and  old  Joshua  in  the  promised  land,  ever  reiterating 
the  story  of  God's  judgments,  miracles,  and  mercies  in  Egypt 


388  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

and  the  wilderness,  was  worth  more  to  Israel  than  the  strong 
arms  of  a  thousand  youthful  warriors. 

May  we  not  hope,  also,  that  the  prayers  of  one  so  long  dear 
to  the  Savior,  and  the  leadings  of  one  so  long  familiar  with 
the  road  to  heaven,  may  be  especially  instrumental  in  calling 
down  blessings  upon  the  Church  and  upon  your  friends,  as 
well  as  in  accelerating  and  facilitating  their  heavenward 
journey  ?  It  is  my  belief  that  our  departed  friends  pray  for 
us  in  their  new  abode,  but  I  know  they  pray  for  us  so  long 
as  they  are  our  fellow-pilgrims  ;  and  allow  me  to  say  that 
I  have  peculiar  satisfaction  in  thinking  that,  from  your  re- 
lation to  my  family,  they  are  likely  to  be  remembered  in 
your  prayers,  and  I  can  but  be  the  more  hopeful  on  that  ac- 
count that  my  dear  wife  and  babe  will  be  blessed  of  my 
heavenly  Father.  You  are  no  doubt  most  unconscious  of 
any  such  power  with  God,  and  my  suggestions  may  even  fall 
painfully  upon  your  deep  sense  of  unworthiness  ;  but  all  this 
only  renders  it  not  the  less,  but  far  more  likely  that  you 
may  be  subserving  these  and  other  high  ends  of  the  Divine 
mercy. 

Is  it  not  also  highly  probable  that  your  felicity  hereafter 
may  bear  some  intelligible  proportion  to  the  duration  and 
thoroughness  of  your  probation  here  ?  We  know  that  the 
present  life  has,  in  the  Divine  economy,  the  most  important 
and  essential  relation  to  our  qualifications  for  God's  service 
in  heaven.  It  seems  likely  that  we  could  in  no  other  "way 
be  so  well  fitted  for  the  world  of  glory.  The  rewards  of  eter- 
nity are  to  bear  a  gracious  proportion  to  what  we  experience, 
do,  and  attain  in  this  world,  and  not  to  the  achievements  of 
the  future.  We  do  not  imagine,  I  think,  that  the  infant  of 
days  or  the  youthful  Christian  enters  heaven  as  well  furnish- 
ed and  fitted  for  the  same  work  and  joy  as  the  veteran  of 
many  trials  and  labors,  the  apostle,  or  the  martyr.  You  no 
doubt  feel  that  the  days  of  your  activity  are  over,  but  you  do 
not  forget  that  great  things  have  been  achieved  by  "wait- 


LIGHT    AT    EVENING    TIME.  389 

ing,"  by  "being  still,"  by  looking  for  "the  salvation  of  God." 
Your  strength  fails — your  voice  is  tremulous.  Even  so  ;  but 
the  Master  now  asks  of  you  not  bodily  exercise,  which  "  prof- 
iteth  little,"  but  the  homage  of  a  chastened,  grateful  spirit, 
which  can  ripen  its  fruits  to  His  glory,  though  the  day  for 
green  foliage  and  gay  flowers  has  passed  away. 

I  beg  of  you,  pardon  the  seeming  presumption  of  such  a 
letter.  It  has  been  dictated  by  much  affection,  and  by  a  re- 
spect which  amounts  to  reverence. 

We  M'ould  gladly  be  with  you  and  speak  our  congratula- 
tions, but  it  may  not  be  so.  We  shall  think  of  the  day  the 
more  from  its  near  connection  with  an  event  which  has  for 
the  last  five  years  added  unspeakably  to  my  happiness.  May 
God  still  spare  you  to  your  friends  and  the  Church.  I  send 
my  love  to  cousin  Mary,  and  am  very  truly  yours, 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 

CLXXX.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

Middletown,  October  13th,  1848. 

I  was  much  shocked  and  grieved  to  hear  that  you  had  been 
ill  in  Carlisle.  Was  your  illness  of  a  serious  character? 
May  God  avert  from  you  all  serious,  dangerous 
illness.  I  trust  He  has  a  good  work  for  you  to  do,  and  that 
you  may  live  to  see  good,  laborious,  fruitful  old  age.  I  al- 
ways think  with  sadness,  though  not  without  resignation,  of 
the  early  removal  of  Emory  and  Caldwell.  How  heavily 
does  the  loss  of  such  men  press  upon  us  !  .  .  .  .  So  far 
as  I  can  perceive,  we  have  reached  a  point  where  a  large  sup- 
ply of  intelligent,  cultivated  ministers  is  indispensable,  and 
the  removal  of  such  as  we  have  looks  like  an  intimation  of 
the  Divine  displeasure.  Oh,  may  you  be  spared,  and  that  for 
some  good  purpose.  Especially  may  you  be  enabled,  through 
the  Review,  to  impress  upon  our  preachers  the  duty  of  being 
more  intelligent  and  more  godly.  "  A  little  learning  is  a 
dangerous  thing ;"  it  does  not  get  fairly  within,  but  sticks 


390  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

awkwardly  to  the  surface ;  it  comes  forth  in  crude  masses, 

not  being  well  assimilated  to  the  mind's  fluids 

The  error  of  conservatives  among  us  consists  in  their  attempts 
to  stay  and  reverse,  instead  of  accelerating  progress.  We 
must  advance  or  perish.  You  are  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
speaking  to  probably  a  majority  of  our  preachers  four  times 
in  the  year.  It  is  a  glorious  chance  for  doing  good.  Preach 
knowledge  and  holiness.  We  are  fearfully  in  the  background 
in  both.  I  therefore  put  knowledge  first,  as  expressing  by  the 
order  the  most  urgent  of  our  wants.  I  hope  you  will  give 
large  space  to  these  and  kindred  topics. 

Am  I  to  understand  your  abjuration  of  conservatism  as  a 
promise  that  you  mean  to  expose  the  faults,  weaknesses,  wants, 
and  errors  of  our  sect,  like  a  brave,  loving  Christian  brother, 
or  only  that  the  naughtiness  of  slaveholders  will  be  freely 
commented  upon  ?  Should  we  be  made  to  feel  the  enormity 
of  our  own  delinquencies,  which  we  may  correct,  or  of  our 
brother's,  which  he  will  probably  persevere  in,  despite  of  our 
advice  and  indignation  ?  I  should  say,  give  us  something  of 
both,  as  a  random  shot  sometimes  does  execution,  but  chiefly 
show  up  home  sins.  I  but  follow  out  my  curiously  associated 
trains  of  thought  by  congratulating  you  upon  one  of  the  per- 
quisites of  your  position.  You  get  a  great  deal  of  good  ad- 
vice without  so  much  as  asking  for  it.  Others  are  often  fain 
to  pay  for  it.  In  judging  me  for  this  seeming  impertinence, 
do  not  forget  my  apology.  It  is  better  than  most  of  these 
croakers  can  offer.  First,  with  a  perhaps  overweening  con- 
fidence in  my  own  opinions,  I  feel  the  most  intense  interest  in 
the  Church.  Her  griefs  and  her  joys  are  mine — more  so  than 
are  my  own.  Then,  besides  my  love  for  the  "  king,"  I  cherish 
a  very  cordial  affection  for  "Alexander."  Both  the  Church 
and  the  editor  are  concerned  in  such  a  wise,  faithful,  and  earn- 
est conduct  of  the  Review  as  will  quadruple  its  influence  for 
good.  I  like  the  tone  of  your  manifesto.  Olim  juvabit 
meminisse. 


PUNCTUALITY     AS     A     CORRESPONDENT.      391 


CLXXXI.  TO  THE  SAME. 

Middletown,  November  22d,  1848. 

I  have  a  habit  of  feeling  uneasy  when,  I  have  an  unan- 
swered letter  on  hand.  This  is  a  slight  discomfort,  but  it  has 
induced  another  active  habit,  which  insures  the  speedy  dis- 
patch of  this  sort  of  business.  If  I  do  not  reply  to  a  letter  by 
the  next  day  after  I  receive  it,  it  is  because  that  day  is  Sun- 
day, or  I  am  ill,  or  uncommonly  busy,  or  that  no  reply  is  spe- 
cially called  for.  Your  last  has  been  postponed  on  the  last 
account ;  it  is  now  about  three  weeks.  I  have  been  tempted 
to  answer  it  from  day  to  day,  but  took  thought  that  you  are 
now  a  public  functionary,  not  a  little  burdened  with  duties, 
and  might  be  thankful  for  a  little  indulgence.  I  write  now, 
because  I  think  a  decent  time  has  elapsed,  and  I  feel  myself 
at  liberty  to  draw  again  upon  your  patience. 

When  may  we  consider  friendship  so  mature  that  we  may 
speak  of  an  "  old"  friend  ?  I  was  counting  up  the  years  of 
our  acquaintance,  which  I  find  to  be  five  and  more,  and  I 
think  I  may  say  we  have  been  friends  so  long.  We  began 
friends,  and  if  good  intensity  may  be  reckoned  for  time,  or  in- 
stead of  time,  then  I  may  hold  myself  your  "  old"  friend,  an 
epithet  I  like  to  apply  to  my  friends.  I  want  old  friends, 
which  are  like  old  wine.  My  frequent  changes  of  residence 
have  grievously  interfered  with  my  taste  in  this  respect ;  our 
calamitous  Church  difficulties  still  more.  The  Conference 
of  1844  has  lost  me  friends  in  several  ways.  First,  in  the 
South,  where  I  was  opulent  in  this  way,  where  my  religious 
affections  were  first  awakened,  where  I  loved  many,  and  was 
more  liked  than  I  can  be  again  or  elsewhere.  I  have  still  a 
few  old  friends  there,  who  do  not  wholly  cast  me  out.  Sec- 
ondly, in  the  North,  where  my  moderate  course,  and  my 
open  opposition  to  the  flagrant  injustice  which  I  saw  prepar- 
ing, awakened  active  and  earnest  hostility  against  me.  I 
tend  to  confidence  and  charity  ;  I  contend  against  all  bitter- 


392  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

ness  and  resentment.  Indeed,  I  feel  none,  and  may  hope  to 
outgrow  the  shock  which  has  been  so  rude  upon  my  moral 
sensibilities.  Meantime,  I  have,  no  doubt,  lost  "  old"  friends, 
.and  have  additional  reasons  for  appreciating  those  who  re- 
main. The  drift  of  all  this  gossip  is  to  find  ground  for  infer- 
ring that  you  and  I  are  beginning  to  be  "  old"  friends.  You 
see  in  this  that  I  do  not  require  any  unreasonable  harmony 
of  opinions  as  the  basis  of  such  a  relation,  for  I  believe  you 
are  as  ultra  on  the  questions  under  which  I  have  suffered  so 
much  as  almost  any.  It  is  in  your  favor  that  you  have  oc- 
cupied a  different  stand-point  from  theirs.  I  am  only  intol- 
erant toward  interested  inconsistency. 

You  ask  my  opinion  of  Dr.  Bushnell's  book  on 
"  Christian  Nurture."  Most  favorable,  I  assure  you.  The 
book  ought  to  create  a  sensation.  Bushnell  is  one  of  the 
first  men  of  our  day  —  simple-hearted,  original,  fearless,  and 
powerful.  I  might  not  concur  with  each  of  his  opinions  or 
statements,  but  I  now  think  of  no  exceptions,  and  I  regard 
his  work  with  high  admiration.  I  can  truly  say  that  I  have 
been  of  his  opinion  in  regard  to  this  subject  for  twenty  years, 
though  I,  of  course,  was  incompetent  to  state  or  argue  it 
as  he  has  done.  Such  doctrines  need  to  be  proclaimed  from 
the  housetops.  No  part  of  the  world  needs  them  as  do  the 
American  Churches.  We  are  the  worst  off,  excepting  always 
the  Baptists,  who  are  principled  to  the  wrong.  The  Episco- 
palians are,  perhaps,  the  best.  They  would  unquestionably 
be,  but  for  baptismal  regeneration,  which  pledges  them  to  the 
opposite  pole  of  error,  the  Baptists  having  the  other.  I  trust 
you  will  do  us  great  good  in  the  promotion  of  this  and  other 
vital  interests.  May  God  give  you  strength  and  wisdom 
equal  to  your  day  !  May  He  restore  you  to  perfect  health  ! 


ILLNESS    IN     NEW    YORK.  393 


CHAPTER  X. 

ILLNESS  IN  NEW  YORK— REMINISCENCES  OF  HIS  SOCIAL  CHAR- 
ACTER. 

IN  the  beginning  of  June,  1849,  the  New  York  East 
Conference  had  its  session  in  Middletown,  and  Dr.  Olin 
had  the  pleasure  of  entertaining  a  number  of  his  breth- 
ren at  his  house.  He  enjoyed  their  Christian  converse, 
and  their  morning  and  evening  prayers.  He  said,  with 
great  satisfaction,  that  while  there  was  no  lack  of  cheer- 
fulness, and  free,  unrestrained  conversation,  he  had  not 
heard,  during  the  week  they  spent  together,  a  word  ut- 
tered unbecoming  the  dignity  of  a  Christian  minister. 
Five  of  the  guests  at  his  table  have,  in  the  short  space 
of  three  years,  been  summoned  to  the  heavenly  ban- 
quet, where  they  may  eat  bread  together  in  the  king- 
dom of  G-od. 

In  the  autumn,  Dr.  Olin  had  an  attack  of  illness,  and 
he  spent  several  weeks  at  the  house  of  his  kind  friend 
and  physician,  Dr.  Palmer,  enjoying  the  benefit  of  his 
watchful  care  and  attention.  "  Once,"  writes  the  lady, 
to  whose  memoranda  we  have  so  often  referred,  to  Mrs. 
Olin,  "  I  went  to  see  him  at  Dr.  Palmer's.  He  lay  in 
the  back  parlor,  on  the  sofa,  alone,  and  was  so  glad  to 
see  me.  He  made  me  sit  by  him,  and  said  delightful 
and  profitable  things.  It  was  a  privilege  to  know  him. 

"  A  few  happy  interviews  we  all  had  together  in  his 
sick-room.  He  never  seemed  greater,  nor  half  so  love- 
able  to  me  as  he  did  when  he  was  so  ill  at  your  fa- 
ther's." 

R2 


394  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


The  illness  here  referred  to  prostrated  him  after  he 
had  been  convalescent  for  three  months.  After  spend- 
ing most  of  the  winter  vacation  in  New  York,  he  was 
taken  ill  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for  home  and  home 
duties.  For  three  months  he  was  confined  to  his  bed 
— patient,  cheerful,  but  with  a  deeper  shade  of  thought 
than  was  wont  to  rest  on  his  brow — a  more  fixed  con- 
templation of  possible  results — a  looking  forward  to  the 
end.  He  was  comforted  by  the  frequent  visits  and 
prayers  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry.  The  venera- 
ble Bishop  Hedding,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Creagh,  whose 
serene  goodness  and  saintly  aspect  marked  him  as  a 
beloved  disciple,  had  memorable  interviews  with  him. 
They  may  look  back  upon  them  from  those  heavenly 
mansions  where  they  now  rest  from  their  labors. 

Dr.  Olin  one  day  asked  his  wife  to  take  her  pencil 
and  write  a  few  words  intended  to  serve  as  his  dying 
testimony,  should  he  die  and  make  no  sign.  They 
breathe  the  same  spirit  of  humility  and  unfaltering 
confidence  which  had  for  some  years  characterized  his 
utterances  when  he  spoke  of  his  religious  experience. 
In  1843,  he  wrote  :  "  My  feelings  in  matters  of  religion 
were  always  ardent  and  strong,  but  they  have  under- 
gone great  changes  within  this  last  year  or  two.  I  am 
as  far  as  possible  from  all  austerity,  or  any  tendency 
to  it,  but  I  am  greatly  conscious  of  an  engrossing 
wish  and  purpose  to  consecrate  myself  wholly  to  Grod. 
I  greatly  distrust  myself  and  my  good  resolutions, 
but  not  the  grace  of  Christ.  He  will  help.  He  will 
accept  and  bless."  Again :  "  God  knows  I  am  a 
very  poor,  though,  surely,  a  very  sincere  disciple.  I 
have  small  attainments,  but  great  aspirations,  great 


UNFALTERING     CONFIDENCE.  395 

confidence.     And  I  can  trust  Christ.     That  is  the  sum 
of  all." 

My  long  illnesses  have  modified  my  religious  experience.  I 
formerly  eagerly  sought  for  high  religious  enjoyment ;  now  I 
shrink  from  it.  "  My  soul  breaketh  for  the  longing  that  it 
hath  for  God  at  all  times,"  does  not  express  my  feelings. 
"My  heart  is  fixed  ;"  "  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust 
him  ;"  "  Thy  will  be  done  :"  those  texts  suit  me.  In  past 
years  I  was  filled  with  desire,  an  intense  desire  for  health  to 
do  (rod's  work  —  to  preach,  to  study,  to  be  felt — that  desire 
remained  with  me  through  years  of  feeble  health.  But  God 
did  not  need  me.  Now  I  am  brought  to  entire  resignation. 
The  Lord  will  do  what  is  best. 

I  may  die  without  any  other  testimony  than  this.  I  may 
die  just  as  I  am,  trusting,  believing,  but  with  no  rapturous  ex- 
pressions— though  I  think  I  should  have  a  glad  feeling  to  find 
myself  on  the  borders  of  endless  life,  with  infirmities,  disap- 
pointments, sorrows  forever  at  an  end.  I  feel  that  it  can  not 
be  that  I  should  be  cast  out — from  the  heaven  where  are 
gathered  the  people  whom  I  love,  with  whose  spirits  and  tastes 
I  sympathize — from  the  society  I  relish,  to  that  which  I 
loathe  ;  to  the  hell  where  the  worldly,  the  unbelieving,  for 
whose  society  I  have  a  distaste,  with  whom  I  have  nothing 
in  common,  find  their  portion.  It  is  unphilosophical  to  think 
so — it  can  not  be  in  God's  economy  to  separate  me  from  what 
I  have  so  long  trusted  in.  He  sends  to  hell  those  who  will 
not  submit  to  his  will ;  but  my  will  is  in  harmony  with  his. 
The  law  of  affinities  will  find  place.  S.  OLIN. 

New  York,  May,  1850. 

On  the  18th  of  January,  he  was  surprised  at  the  an- 
nouncement made  in  the  public  papers  of  his  election 
to  the  presidency  of  Grenesee  College.  He  at  once  re- 
ferred to  a  letter  which  had  been  forwarded  to  him 
from  Middletown  about  the  15th  or  20th  of  December. 


396 


LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


It  was  from  a  gentleman  appointed  by  the  trustees  as 
one  of  a  committee  to  prepare  a  course  of  study  for  the 
college,  and  it  contained  a  copy  of  the  course,  with  a 
request  that  Dr.  Olin  would  look  it  over,  and  suggest 
any  alterations  or  amendments  which  might  occur  to 
him.  Not  feeling  well  enough  to  give  his  attention  to 
the  subject,  he  had,  after  reading  the  first  few  lines, 
laid  the  letter  aside  till  circumstances  should  allow  him 
to  give  it  a  satisfactory  answer.  He  now  found,  on 
reading  the  entire  letter,  the  following  intimation,  to 
which  his  silence  had  given  consent:  "The  trustees 
meet  in  January,  and  will  with  unanimous  consent 
call  you  to  the  presidency,  unless  you  positively  refuse, 
which  I  hope  you  may  not  do,  for  the  sake  of  the  in- 
terests of  education  and  Methodism."*  He  regretted 
that  this  oversight  should  have  led  to  the  tender  of  an 
office  which  he  felt  compelled  to  decline. 

About  this  time  he  was  requested  by  Dr.  Wainwright 
to  make  a  contribution  to  the  beautiful  work  then  in 
preparation,  "  Our  Savior,  with  Prophets  and  Apostles." 
He  said  to  his  wife,  who  regretted  his  inability  to  com- 
ply with  this  request,  that  he  had  a  train  of  thought  in 
his  mind  that  would  readily  expand  into  an  article  on 
the  character  of  the  Apostle  Peter.  He  would  have  im- 
agined the  tone  given  to  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
the  apostle  by  the  assured  conviction  that  he  was  ad- 
vancing toward  a  violent  death — that  through  the  gate 
of  martyrdom  he  was  to  pass  to  the  excellent  glory. 
How  would  the  earthly  life  look  to  a  man  with  this 
shadow  thrown  across  it?  "Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 

*  This  was  the  seventh  or  eighth  time  that  he  had  been  invited  to 
a  similar  post  of  responsibility. 


SEMI-CENTENNIAL     CELEBRATION.  397 

thee,"  were  the  words  of  his  blessed  Lord,  "when  thou 
wast  young,  thou  girdedst  thyself,  and  walkedst  whith- 
er thou  wouldest ;  but  when  thou  shalt  be  old,  thou 
shalt  stretch  forth  thy  hands,  and  another  shall  gird 
thee  and  carry  thee  whither  thou  wouldest  not."  The 
disciple  was  to  tread  a  path  like  unto  that  his  Master 
trod — with  a  death  like  his  in  physical  suffering  ever 
in  view. 

He  returned  to  Middletown  in  May,  and  during  the 
summer  enjoyed  his  usual  health,  and  attended  to  his 
duties  without  interruption.  The  semi-centennial  cel- 
ebration of  Middlebury  College  was  to  take  place  in 
August,  1850,  and  Dr.  Olin  had  been  honored  with  an 
invitation  to  preach  the  sermon  on  this  festive  occasion. 
He  did  not  deem  it  prudent  to  comply  with  this  re- 
quest immediately  after  the  fatigues  of  Commencement 
at  home ;  but  he  repaired  to  Middlebury  to  revive  old 
associations,  and,  amid  the  scenes  of  the  olden  time,  to 
mingle  with  the  friends  of  his  youth.  At  the  next  Com- 
mencement at  Middlebury  College  his  death  was  an- 
nounced, and  his  life  reviewed  in  eloquent  words — al- 
most prophetic  ones  too— for  in  a  little  more  than  a  year 
the  speaker  received  his  own  summons  to  the  spirit-land. 

"  Dr.  Olin,"  said  the  Honorable  Myron  Lawrence,  in.  the  eu- 
logy he  then  pronounced,  "  always  felt  a  strong  attachment 
to  his  Alma  Mater.  The  last  time  I  met  him,  he  attended 
a  meeting  in  Boston*  in  her  behalf,  and  opened  his  mouth 
most  eloquently  in  her  praise.  At  the  last  year's  anniversa- 
ry he  was  present,  aiding  the  college  by  both  his  voice  and 
his  purse.  He  is  here  to-day  as  the  subject  of  eulogy.  Sol- 
emn contrast !  Awful  change  ! 

*  In  January,  1851. 


398 


LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


"  We  are  hereby  admonished  of  the  brevity  of  life,  arid  the 
certainty  of  death.  Who  of  us,  sir,  will  be  the  subject  of  eu- 
logy another  anniversary?  It  may  be  you  —  it  may  be  I. 
Let  us  see  to  it  that  we  are  found  girded  laborers  in  our  Mas- 
ter's service. 

"  Olin,  our  friend,  is  gone  !  We  shall  never  again  hear  those 
silver  tones  admonishing  us  of  duty,  or  those  startling  ap- 
peals calling  us  to  self-examination,  or  those  urgent  exhorta- 
tions to  prepare  to  meet  our  God.  True,  he  is  gone  ;  but  his 
virtues  are  enshrined  in  the  affections  and  hallowed  in  the 
memories  of  all  who  knew  him." 

On  his  return  from  Middlebury,  Dr.  Olin  paid  his 
last  visit  to  his  brother  at  Poultney,  where  he  spent 
some  days  in  company  with  his  uncle  Walker,  his  and 
his  father's  friend,  who  had  met  him  at  President  Lab- 
aree's  levee,  in  Middlebury,  for  the  first  time  in  fifteen 
years.  He  then  rejoined  his  family  at  Rhinebeck,  at 
the  lovely  place  of  Miss  Gr  arrettson,  the  daughter  of  the 
Rev.  Freeborn  Gfarrettson.  On  one  of  the  days  he 
passed  here,  a  missionary  festival  was  given  in  Miss 
Grarrettson's  woods  ;  and,  after  the  religious  exercises 
and  the  social  pleasures  of  the  day  were  over,  there 
was  a  family  gathering  at  the  house,  and  Dr.  Olin  ded- 
icated James  Lynch,  his  youngest  child,  to  God  in 
holy  baptism.  It  was  an  impressive  scene — the  quiet 
parlor,  lighted  up  with  the  radiance  of  a  summer  sun- 
set; and  the  solemn  bearing  of  the  father,  as  with 
heart  and  voice  he  offered  that  precious  child  to  Grod. 
It  was  the  boy's  birth-day,  the  only  one  his  parents 
were  permitted  to  rejoice  in.  On  the  next  anniversary 
of  that  day,  father  and  child  were  where  the  pure  in 
heart  behold  their  Grod. 


LETTER    OF    REMINISCENCES.  399 

Miss  Grarrettson  alludes  to  this  visit  of  Dr.  Olin's  in 
a  letter  to  Mrs.  Olin,  in  which  she  records  some  of  her 
remembrances  of  him : 

"  I  think  Dr.  Olin  must  have  been  paying  his  earliest  min- 
isterial visit  to  his  native  state  when  I  first  heard  of  him. 
A  clerical  friend*  of  mine  (not  a  Methodist)  said  to  me  one 
day,  '  What  an  astonishing  man  this  Olin  of  yours  is  ;  do  you 
know  him  V  I  replied,  that  I  had  never  before  heard  of  him, 
and,  in  my  turn,  inquired  who  this  astonishing  man  was,  and 
where  he  was  to  be  found  ;  to  which  my  friend  answered, 
'  He  is  a  Vermonter,  and  his  eloquence,  I  am  told,  is  wonder- 
ful !  It  is  like  a  torrent  which  bears  down  all  before  it.' 

"  When  I  next  heard  of  Dr.  Olin,  he  was  again  in  Vermont, 
prostrated  by  the  disease  which  followed  him  through  life. 
It  was  our  venerable  Bishop  Hedding  who  spoke  of  him  ;  and 
though  I  can  not  remember  his  precise  language,  the  picture 
which  he  drew  still  lives  in  my  heart.  He  spoke  of  Dr. 
Olin's  great  intellectual  superiority,  of  his  rich  endowments, 
and  unsurpassed  eloquence  ;  but,  more  than  all,  of  his  deep 
piety  and  unquestioning  submission.  He  said  that  with  these 
great  capabilities  he  was  laid  aside — unable  even  to  make  a 
prayer  in  the  family — but  that  leaning  on  his  Father's  arm, 
like  a  loving,  trustful  child,  he  bore,  not  only  with  resigna- 
tion, but  cheerfulness,  the  hardest  trial  such  a  mind  could 
know. 

"  So  many  first  impressions  of  Dr.  Olin  have  been  written, 
that  I  will  not  add  mine  to  the  number,  though  sufficiently 
vivid  even  now.  I  will  only  say  that  the  blended  expres- 
sion of  benignity  and  power  struck  me  most  forcibly.  I  well 
remember  the  first  afternoon  I  spent  with  him  at  Mr.  Lan- 
don's,  and  the  admiration  we  felt  for  him. 

"  Several  years  later,  I  think  in  1836,  he  spent  a  week  or 
two  at  my  mother's  and  it  was  then  I  learned  not  only  to 
*  The  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Potter. 


400  LIFE      AND     LETTERS. 

admire,  but  to  revere  him.  His  conversation,  always  inter- 
esting, was,  when  he  spoke  on  religious  subjects,  intensely  so. 
I  think  I  can  see  him  now  (as  I  once  saw  him  during  that 
visit),  pacing  the  floor,  his  figure  drawn  up  to  its  utmost  ele- 
vation, his  head  slightly  thrown  back  as  in  an  upward  gaze, 
and  the  unheeded  tears  rolling  down  his  face  as  he  descant- 
ed on  the  love  of  God.  A  beloved  friend  and  brother,  now 
with  him  in  heaven,  had  been  conversing  with  him  on  the 
evil  tendency  of  some  heretical  views,  and  ended  by  saying, 
with  great  solemnity,  '  I  do  not  see  how  God  can  save  those 
who  die  in  such  a  faith.'  How  well  I  remember  Dr.  Olin's 
manner,  as  with  deep  emotion  he  replied,  '  And  I,  sir,  think 
it  very  difficult  for  God  to  leave  a  soul  to  perdition  ;'  and  it 
was  then  he  descanted  on  the  love  of  God,  and  on  the  mighty 
influences  put  forth  for  man's  salvation,  in  a  manner  which 
showed  that  the  depths  of  that  great  heart  were  stirred. 

"  After  his  return  from  Europe,  I  saw  still  more  of  Dr. 
Olin,  and  I  need  not  say  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  at  ev- 
ery interview  my  respect  for  him  was  heightened.  Others 
have  endeavored  to  describe  his  inimitable  manner  of  fulfill- 
ing public  duties  ;  I  would  speak  of  his  social  character — of 
that  rare  union  of  qualities  which  made  him  so  perfect  in  the 
relations  of  friend  and  companion.  His  colloquial  powers 
were  remarkable.  To  the  most  felicitous  choice  of  language 
he  added  a  chastened  humor  and  a  spontaneous  wit,  which 
came  welling  up,  while  his  expressive  features  anticipated 
all  that  his  lips  might  utter  ;  and,  when  serious,  how  deeply 
serious  were  his  tones,  how  ponderously  his  words  and  argu- 
ments fell  upon  the  heart !  And  yet  it  was  the  qualities  of 
his  heart  rather  than  of  his  intellect  that  rendered  his  com- 
panionship so  delightful ;  his  great  mental  superiority  might 
have  overawed  but  for  the  whole-hearted  sympathy  he  so 
freely  gave.  His  conversation  was  surrendered  on  such  equal 
terms,  that  the  observations  of  his  feeblest  friend  were  sure 
to  meet  full  consideration.  It  was  not  condescension,  but  con- 


LETTER    OP    REMINISCENCES.  401 

fraternity — even  by  his  sitting  posture  was  this  con-fraternity 
shown — no  matter  how  low  might  be  the  stature  of  the  friend 
with  whom  he  was  intimately  conversing,  Dr.  Olin's  head 
was  brought  down  to  the  same  level,  though  by  what  mode 
a  change  was  so  easily  effected  was  a  marvel. 

"  I  can  not  close  this  slight  sketch  of  Dr.  Olin's  social  char- 
acter without  noticing  the  candor  and  forbearance  which  he 
showed  to  those  who  placed  themselves  in  a  hostile  attitude 
to  himself.  I  came  into  the  room  one  day,  just  as  he  finished 
reading  an  article  in  which  his  controversy  with  Dr.  Robin- 
son had  been  severely  satirized.  On  my  making  some  re- 
mark about  it,  he  looked  up  with  a  face  so  fully  expressive 
of  the  mortification  he  feltfo?-  the  writer,  that  I  plainly  saw 
the  missile  which  would  have  wounded  had  turned  aside,  and 
the  only  sorrow  was  that  a  friend's  hand  could  have  aimed 
the  blow.  Alluding  to  the  controversy  with  Dr.  Robinson, 
he  said  he  cared  nothing  for  '  the  bit  of  old  wall,'  but  he  did 
for  his  moral  character,  which  had  been  assailed  in  a  man- 
ner that  compelled  a  defense. 

"  With  a  broad  foundation  of  integrity,  his  character  could 
not  but  possess  a  oneness  and  consistency  which  insured  him 
the  confidence  of  others.  Show  him  ever  so  politic  a  scheme 
to  advance  some  cherished  object,  and  did  the  slightest  shad- 
ow of  dissimulation  cross  it,  that  scheme  was  rejected  with 
disdain.  He  needed  no  window  in  his  heart,  for  both  lip  and 
countenance  revealed  what  was  passing  there. 

"  In  fulfilling  your  request,  my  dear  cousin,  I  have  omitted 
much,  very  much,  on  which  I  suppose  others  would  dilate. 
Two  traits,  however,  belonging  to  his  social  character,  re- 
main untouched  —  his  deep  humility  and  his  deep  affection. 
The  first  was  sometimes  expressed  in  language  that  startled 
me ;  the  last  was  like  the  flow  of  a  living  fountain,  whose 
source  was  inexhaustible.  I  shall  never  forget  the  scene  of 
purest  bliss  which  transpired  here  during  his  last  visit.  He 
had  returned  from  a  Northern  tour,  and  found  all  his  house- 


402  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

hold  treasures  here.  "With  one  child,  laughing  with  delight, 
in  his  arms,  another  at  his  knee,  whose  transport  could  only 
find  expression  in  vigorous  leaps,  and  you,  his  beloved  wife, 
at  his  side — as  he  surveyed  first  one,  then  another  object  of 
love,  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  more  complete  picture  of 
earthly  felicity." 

In  the  calm  tenor  of  Middletown  life,  one  day  in  this 
autumn  deserves  a  passing  notice.  It  was  a  beautiful 
day,  in  September,  1850,  when  about  two  thousand  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Middletown  were  gathered  together 
to  hallow  with  prayer,  and  solemn  speech,  and  holy 
hymn  the  Indian  Hill,  "  a  glorious  mount,  made  sol- 
emn, majestic,  and  monumental  by  Nature  herself,"  for 
a  resting-place  for  the  dead.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Groodwin, 
of  the  Episcopal  Church,  having  dwelt  upon  the  relig- 
ious aspects  of  the  occasion,  Dr.  Olin  presented  some 
of  the  social  and  economic  considerations  connected 
with  the  movement,  and  his  remarks  were  thought  by 
many  to  be  in  his  happiest  vein.  They  may  be  found 
in  the  second  volume  of  his  works. 

Letters  from  January,  1849,  to  April,  1.851. 

CLXXXII.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Baltimore,  January  9th,  1849. 

.  .  .  .  I  did  not  reach  Philadelphia  till  about  sunset 
last  Friday.  The  wind  carried  the  snow  upon  the  rails,  and 
so  retarded  the  train.  This  put  us  out  of  our  proper  relations 
with  the  coming  trains,  for  which  we  had  to  wait,  go  back, 
&c.,  so  that  the  day  was  consumed  in  the  journey  to  Phila- 
delphia. Bishop  Janes  was  with  me,  which  mitigated  the 
tedium  of  this  unexpected  delay.  I  had  a  brief  but  very 
pleasant  interview  with  Mr.  Montgomery 

I  reached  Baltimore  on  Saturday,  and  stopped  with  my 


MISSIONARY    MEETING     IN     BALTIMORE.     403 

kind  old  friends,  the  Wilkins',  whom  I  found  in  good  health. 
I  preached  on  Sunday  morning  in  Charles  Street  Church. 
Last  evening  I  made  a  missionary  address  in  Light  Street  to 
a  good  audience,  and  with  usual  liberty.*     I  pray  that  it  may 
he  useful  in  inciting  the  slumbering  zeal  of  these  Churches  in 
that  good  cause.     I  am  always  made  melancholy  when  any 
event  or  duty  brings  vividly  before  me  the  wretched  condi- 
tion of  the  heathen.     How  little  is  done  to  relieve  them  of 
unutterable  evils.     How  little  do  the  most  awakened  of  us 
care  for  their  hapless  condition  !     I  feel  a  lively  wish  that 
I  may  be  able  to  be  in  some  small  degree  useful  in  arousing 
the  Church  on  this  subject,  and  I  am  conscious  of  leading  a 
useless  life  in  all  respects.     When  shall  I  begin  to  be  really 
alive  to  my  duties  ?     Not,  I  fear,  till  it  is  too  late  to  accom- 
plish any  thing  valuable.     I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  myself 
and'  my  conduct,  but  this  is  not  repentance  nor  reformation. 
I  may  stay  here  for  a  day  or  two  more.     I  shall  hardly 
proceed  to  Washington,  though  nothing  hinders  but  a  decided 
inclination.     I  expect  to  go  to  Philadelphia  on  Friday,  if  not 
earlier.     If  I  can  gain  my  own  consent,  I  may  stay  there  a 
day  or  two  after  Monday,  when  I  have  some  service  to  per- 
form.    I  am  anxious  to  hear  from  you  and  Henry.     I  find 
satisfaction  in  commending  you  to  the  Divine  protection.    My 
strong  desire  for  him  is,  that  he  may  grow  xip  to  be  a  true 
child  of  God.      How  worthless  are  all  other  distinctions  ! 
How  sufficient  this  to  satisfy  all  the  reasonable  wishes  of  pi- 
ous parents  !     May  God  bless,  and  comfort,  and  preserve  you 
and  Henry. 

*  On  a  previous  visit  to  Baltimore,  he  said  to  three  ladies  in  Mrs. 
Wilkins'  parlor,  "  You  ought  to  do  something  for  missions.  Form  a 
Ladies'  Missionary  Society,  and  I  will  come  on  and  plead  for  you  at 
your  anniversary."  The  society  was  formed,  a  large  amount  of  mon- 
ey was  raised  through  their  exertions,  and  it  was  to  redeem  his  pledge 
that  Dr.  Olin  was  called  on  to  take  this  journey.  The  address  deliv- 
ered on  this  occasion  is  to  be  found  in  his  works,  vol.  ii.,  p.  344 


404  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


CLXXXIII.  TO  MRS.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  February  1st,  1849. 

Your  letter,  written  early  in  December,  was  forwarded  to 
me  in  New  York,  where,  with  my  family,  I  spent  the  most 
of  the  long  winter  vacation,  and  whence  I  have  just  now  re- 
turned. My  health  has  been  much  better  during  the  last 
year  and  a  half  than  formerly.  I  have  not  once  been  con- 
fined by  serious  indisposition,  and  but  in  a  single  instance 
been  detained  from  my  post  of  duty.  I  have  yet  to  struggle, 
however,  with  a  broken  and  unmendable  constitution.  I  can 
not  do  much,  and  that  little  must  be  attempted  cautiously. 
In  term  time  I  seldom  preach,  being  barely  equal  to  an  ab- 
breviated scale  of  duties.  In  my  vacations,  however,  re- 
lieved from  the  weight  of  official  responsibility,  I  work  in  this 
most  delightful  of  my  avocations  frequently,  and  without  any 
appreciable  injury.  I  have  preached  rather  more  than  once 
a  week  during  the  vacation  now  closed,  and  I  think  my  health 
is  better  than  it  was  during  the  autumn.  To-day  our  labors 
begin  again. 

I  do  not  begin  my  letter  with  this  treatise  upon  my  own 
health  because  I  am  positively  or  comparatively  indifferent 
in  regard  to  yours  or  brother's,  who  have  recently  been  called 
to  suffer  so  much  more  than  I,  but  rather,  I  suspect,  to  dis- 
patch a  disagreeable  subject  as  soon  as  possible.  When  I 
heard  of  your  serious  and,  as  I  feared,  dangerous  illness,  I 
grieved  for  your  sake,  and  hardly  less  for  my  brother's.  I 
felt  very  deeply  that  his  happiness  and  comfort,  and  perhaps 
life,  were  very  dependent  upon  you.  I  thought  as  I  had 
never  done  before,  of  the  goodness  of  God  in  giving  him  such 
a  friend  in  his  long,  wearisome  way — one  so  adapted  to  his 
wants  in  disposition,  habits,  and  sympathies  ;  and  I  too  eas- 
ily imagined  the  dreary  solitude  with  which  your  removal 
would  surround  him.  I  thank  God  that  you  are  again  in 
health,  with,  I  trust,  as  fair  a  prospect  as  before  of  many  good 


LETTER-WRITING.  405 

days.  I  can  easily  hope  that,  with  the  comfort  of  your  so- 
ciety and  the  guaidianship  of  your  presence,  brother  may  con- 
tinue to  enjoy  life  for  years  to  come.  May  our  merciful  Fa- 
ther make  them  happy,  peaceful  years — happy,  if  not  in  the 
enjoyment  of  ease  and  sound  health,  yet  in  a  higher  relish 
for  Divine  things  as  he  approaches  nearer  to  their  full  fruition. 

CLXXXIV.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  FLOY. 

Middletown,  February  6th,  1849. 

It  is  long  since  I  have  heard  directly  from  you.  The  fault 
is  mine,  and  yet  I  seem  to  myself  not  to  have  been  guilty — 
certainly  not  in  the  intention,  where  both  demerit  and  its 
opposite  are  held  to  reside.  Had  you  been  a  hundred  or  a 
thousand  miles  away,  I  can  not  doubt  that  all  my  feelings 
would  have  demanded  frequent  epistolary  intimations  that 
you  were  well,  and  well  employed.  Now  you  seem  to  be  al- 
most within  speaking  distance  ;  and  one  somehow  feels  a  sort 
of  qualm,  as  at  doing  something  a  little  affected  and  pro- 
fessing, in  writing  long  letters  to  friends  only  just  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  vision.  I  can  not  account  for  this  feeling, 
but  it,  or  something  else  that  operates  on  a  theory  more  oc- 
cult, has  withholden  me  from  writing  to  brother  Landon  as 
well,  though  I  formerly  interchanged  letters  frequently  with 
him,  and  I  certainly  can  detect  no  abatement  in  my  affection 
for  him,  or  for  a  dear  friend  of  his  and  mine,  resident  just  now 
in  New  Haven.  Let  it  be  said,  then,  that  the  impulse  to 
letter-writing  operates  not  inversely,  like  gravitation,  but 
directly,  as  the  distance  between  friends.  Whatever  you 
may  think  of  this  hypothesis,  you  will  admit  that  wiser  men 
than  I  am  have  extricated  themselves  from  greater  difficul- 
ties by  methods  not  more  plausible  than  this.  I  will  add, 
that  I  passed  through  New  Haven  on  my  way  to  New  York 
and  on  my  return,  but  had  a  large  family  with  me,  that  is  to 
say,  my  wife,  child,  and  nurse,  so  that  we  should  have  made 
rather  an  unwieldy  party  to  visit  a  friend.  I  hope  to  see 


406  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

you  under  circumstances  more  favorable  to  agility  and  com- 
fort in  a  few  weeks ;  that  is  to  say,  I  expect  to  come  and 
preach  in  your  new  church  when  it  is  ready,  if  you  still  desire 
it 

CLXXXV.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  OLIN. 

Bolivar,  Tennessee,  March  2d,  1849. 

Many  years  have  passed  away,  and  various  have  been  the 
scenes  and  circumstances  through  which  we  have  passed, 
since  we  were  last  permitted  to  see  each  other  and  take 
sweet  counsel  together.  My  mind  often  looks  back  to  by- 
gone days  with  mingled  feelings  of  pleasure  and  of  pain. 
Permit  me  to  say,  that  I  shall  always  remember,  with  heart- 
felt gratitude,  my  obligations  to  you.  I  love  to  think  of 
old  Tabernacle  Academy,  and  of  the  valuable  instructions  I 
received  there,  laying  a  sure  foundation  on  which  I  have 
since  been  trying  to  erect  a  noble  building — of  the  sermon 
preached  by  you  when  God  broke  my  flinty  heart,  and 
brought  me  humbly  to  the  foot  of  the  cross — of  the  day  when 
I  gave  you  my  hand  and  attached  myself  to  the  Church  of 
Christ — and  of  the  tender  and  affectionate  advice  which  so 
often  came  from  your  lips  in  those  happy  days  when  I  was 
warm  in  my  "  first  love,"  and  my  worthy  preceptor  and  spir- 
itual father  seemed  to  feel  so  deep  a  solicitude  for  the  pres- 
ent and  future  happiness  of  "  Ben."  When  I  do  not  remem- 
ber these  things,  "  my  right  hand  will  forget  its  cunning." 

God  has  blessed  me  with  a  large  and  healthy 
family.  The  three  eldest  profess  religion  and  are  members 
of  the  Church,  and  the  rest  we  are  bringing  up  in  the  fear  of 
the  Lord.  I  have  dedicated  them  all  to  God,  and  I  believe 
He  will  in  due  time  make  them  all  His  children  through 
faith  in  the  Redeemer.  Olin  says  he  wishes  to  finish  his  ed- 
ucation at  the  Wesley  an  University. 

My  brother  William  has  spent  two  weeks  at  my  house,  and 
Bishop  Andrew  one  ;  and,  with  this  exception,  I  have  seen 


SERMON    ON     EARLY    TRAINING.  407 

none  of  my  old  Carolina  friends  since  I  moved  to  Tennessee. 
The  Methodist  Church  in  this  country  is  advancing  rapidly 
in  wealth,  influence,  and  numhers,  but  not  so  fast,  I  fear,  in 
spirituality  and  practical  piety.  I  see  no  such  times  now  as 
we  often  witnessed  in  Abheville  District,  South  Carolina. 
The  official  organs  of  the  Church  bring  us  no  such  joyful 
news  of  "  times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord." 
And  why  not  ?  Our  fathers,  where  are  they  ?  The  simplic- 
ity and  power  of  the  Gospel,  as  once  so  clearly  exemplified 
in  Methodism,  are  they  departing  from  us  ?  God  forbid  ! 

Shall  \ve  ever  meet  again  in  time  ?  Should 
you  ever  visit  Tennessee,  you  will  find  a  cordial  welcome  at 
the  house  of  one  of  your  first  pupils  and  sons  in  the  Gospel. 
Could  I  see  you  once  more,  and  hear  you  preach  as  you  once 
preached,  when  the  words,  coming  warm  from  your  lips, 
brought  tears  to  my  eyes  and  joy  to  my  heart,  I  would  forget 
the  painful  occurrences  which  have  drawn  a  line  between 
the  North  and  the  South,  and  I  would  enjoy  all  the  first  days 
of  my  happy  conversion  over  again.  You  will  pardon  me  for 
referring  to  this  unpleasant  subject  when  I  tell  you  it  is  done 
with  a.  full  heart.  I  do  not  like  the  idea  that  you  and  I  be- 
long to  different  organizations  of  the  Church.  But  still  the 
two  are  branches  of  the  great  Methodist  family,  with  the 
same  doctrines  and  usages,  and  with  the  same  glorious  object 
in  view.  Should  we  never  see  each  other  again,  I  will  still 
think  of  you,  and  love  you  to  the  end  of  my  earthly  pilgrim- 
£ge,  hoping  to  meet  you  at  last,  on  the  shores  of  immortality 

and  eternal  life 

Yours,  very  affectionately,  B.  H.  CAPERS. 

CLXXXVI.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK. 

Middletown,  March  14th,  1849. 
I  have  been  applied  to  from  several  quarters 
to  publish  my  sermon  on  the  Early  Training  of  Children,  and 
I  promised  to  supply  any  quantity  of  it,  when  published  in 


408  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

pamphlet  form,  on  the  first  of  April.  These  applications 
have  induced  me  to  think  the  thing  might  find  a  respectable 
circulation  if  put  forth  in  the  right  time.  The  subject  itself 
seems  to  interest  every  body.  There  is  something  hopeful  in 
this  general  solicitude,  and  even  this  very  rough  tract  might 
be  instrumental  of  good  if  it  should  take  the  tide.  One  indi- 
vidual has  asked  for  two  hundred  copies,  and  him,  as  well  as 
others,  I  promised  to  supply  on  the  first  of  April. 

I  have  been  decidedly  iinwell  since  I  saw  you.  My  cold 
clung  to  me  on  my  way  to  Boston,  where  I  at  once  called  a 
physician,  who  laid  out  all  his  skill  to  get  my  mouth  open  for 
the  dedication.*  He,  of  course,  shut  me  in,  and  nearly  pro- 
hibited conversation,  so  that  I  came  away  from  Boston  little 
wiser  than  I  went  in  all  the  matters  of  special  interest  there- 
about. Through  God's  mercy,  I  was  able  to  preach  after  a 
sort,  of  which  I  have  ever  since  been  paying  the  penalty.  I 
feel  some  little  relief  yesterday  and  to-day.  My  spirits  are 
not  a  little  affected  by  these  ailments,  while  my  solicitude 
connected  with  Professor  Holdich's  probable  departure  aggra- 
vates the  evil  not  a  little.  My  comfort,  and  with  it  my 
health,  is  not  a  little  concerned  in  getting  a  proper  man — an 
able,  working,  godly,  gentlemanly  man.  Oh  !  for  more  good 
men  !  Pray  ye  the  Lord  of  the  harvest !  I  feel  that  it  is  a 
burning  shame  for  such  a  man  as  I  am  to  be  president  of  a 
college.  I  would  not  be  such  a  day,  could  I  see  my  way  clear. 
This  keeps  me  rectus  in  curia.  I  must  wait 
my  time  ;  but  I  have  a  consciousness  in  the  matter  that  wilL 
allow  me  to  be  little  better  than  unhappy.  My  trust  and 
hope  are  in  God,  whom  I  seek  to  obey  with  a  sincere  heart, 
and  I  daily  look  forward  to  the  world,  where  there  can  be 
neither  doubt  nor  error  in  my  allotment  and  vocation.  I 
ought  to  have  a  faith  in  the  arrangements  of  Providence 
equally  assuring  and  satisfactory,  but  I  sometimes  think  our 

*  This  is  the  sermon  alluded  to  in  the  Recollections  of  the  Rev. 
Abel  Stevens,  in  one  of  the  last  chapters  in  this  volume. 


VACANT    CHAIR    IN    THE    UNIVERSITY.         409 

Arminianism  may  be  a  little  unfriendly  to  high  attainments 
in  this  special  Christian  virtue.  Still,  my  whole  trust  is  in 
God  for  time  and  for  eternity.  I  should  be  wretched  but  for 
this  light  and  support.  Yet  do  I  long  for  something  more 
perfect — far  in  advance  of  my  actual  position. 

I  beg  to  be  remembered  to  Mrs.  M'Clintock,  whom  I  con- 
gratulate upon  dwelling  in  her  own  house,  in  the  place  where 
her  early  life  was  passed.  I  think  there  must  be  something 
very  delightful  in  this.  It  is  a  feeling  for  which  I  sometimes 
sigh,  though  I  am,  on  the  whole,  content  never  to  know  it. 

CLXXXVII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  FLOY. 

Wesleyan  University,  March  20th,  1849. 

I  write  at  this  special  time  at  the  suggestion  of  Mrs.  Olin, 
and  to  invite  you  to  stay  with  us  at  the  ensuing  Conference. 
I  trust  that  nobody  has  been  in  advance  of  us,  and  that  we 
may  secure  the  pleasure  and  profit  of  your  company.  It  Avill 
hardly  fail  of  being  refreshing  to  us  to  join  again,  with  an  old 
pastor  and  brother,  in  prayer  at  our  family  altar,  as  we  were 
wont  in  pleasant  days  that  are  gone  to  return  no  more.  I 
place  our  joint  supplication  first,  not,  however,  because  I  for- 
get or  undervalue  the  agreeable,  unreserved  converse  in 
which  I  was  wont  to  indulge  with  you  on  all  topics  and  in- 
terests of  the  Church  and  the  world.  These  quiet,  kindly 
enjoyments  I  often  recall  with  satisfaction,  not  without  some 
painful  convictions  that  I  ought  to  have  contributed  far  more 
to  give  them  a  religious,  edifying  character.  May  we  have 
grace  hereafter  to  do  all  things  to  the  glory  of  God. 

You  have  no  doubt  noticed  the  public  announcement  of 
Dr.  Holdich's  election  to  a  secretaryship  in  the  Bible  Society. 
He  will,  I  doubt  not,  accept  it,  and  so  leave  a  vacant  chair 
in  the  university,  difficult  to  fill  on  more  accounts  than  are 

likely  to  strike  the  uninitiated  spectator It  is 

now  comparatively  easy  to  fill  the  chair  of  ancient  languages, 
or  even  of  mathematics,  out  of  the  considerable  number  of 
II.  S 


410  LIFE    AND     LETTERS. 

our  graduates,  many  of  whom  are  engaged  in  teaching  in 
these  branches.  With  the  department  now  about  to  be  va- 
cated the  case  is  somewhat  different.  Some  maturity  of  in- 
tellect, joined  with  a  good  deal  of  special  culture,  is  requisite 
— some  adaptation  to  this  particular  department,  and  withal 
a  tendency  to  elegance  and  finish  in  all  mental  habits  and 
manifestations.  If,  in  addition  to  these  qualifications,  we 
look  for  the  industry,  the  enthusiasm,  the  good  tempers  and 
manners,  needful  in  every  department,  the  business  of  selec- 
tion becomes  one  of  delicacy  and  difficulty 

I  am  very  anxious  to  see  the  new  hymn-book,  of  which  I 
feel  the  want  perpetually.  Mrs.  Olin  feels  much  gratified 
by  your  proposal  to  send  her  a  copy  early.  I  do  not  heed 
your  back-handed  compliment  about  my  poetic  taste,  having 
never  thought  you  infallible.  I  am  glad  they  lay  the  burden 
on  you. 

CLXXXVIII.  TO  THE  REV.  B.  H.  CAPERS. 

Wesleyan  University,  March  22d,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER, — Your  letter,  which  I  received  two 
days  since,  afforded  me  special  satisfaction.  It  carried  me 
back  to  a  part  of  my  life  to  which  I  always  revert  with 
gratitude  and  joy.  In  September,  1821,  I  was  converted. 
In  November,  1821, 1  was  authorized  to  preach  the  Gospel. 
In  1823,  I  rejoiced  in  blessed  seasons  at  the  Tabernacle  and 
elsewhere  in  Abbeville  District,  South  Carolina,  in  which  you 
had  a  memorable  and  happy  participation.  I  have  often 
thought  that  these  were  among  my  most  useful  days.  The 
school  was  made  a  blessing  to  many,  as  well  as  to  you  and 
me.  My  Saturdays  and  Sundays  were  commonly  and  fre- 
quently employed  in  holding  meetings  in  the  region  round 
about,  within  ten  or  twenty  miles  of  home,  in  which  James 
C.  Glenn,  that  good,  quaint,  eccentric,  able  man,  was  my  com- 
panion and  mentor.  If  he  preached,  I  exhorted,  and  then 
the  contrary.  The  people  crowded  into  their  little  meeting- 


REVIEW     OF     THE     PAST.  411 


houses,  or  about  a  stand  in  the  woods,  to  hear  us,  and,  better 
than  all,  God  manifested  His  presence  in  bringing  souls  to 
Jesus.  I  expect  to  see  the  fruits  of  these  early  efforts  in  the 
world  to  come. 

I  have  always  remembered  you,  my  dear  Ben,  and  the  be- 
ginning of  your  Christian  hopes,  with  lively  interest.  What 
changes  have  since  occurred  !  You  have  become  a  band. 
Your  children  are  growing  up  around  you,  and  those  of  them 
who  have  passed  the  line  of  accountability  have  chosen 
Christ  for  their  portion.  You  yourself,  my  worthy  son  in  the 
Gospel,  are  still  in  the  good  way,  laboring,  as  you  have  op- 
portunity, to  glorify  the  adorable  Savior.  I  would  ask  no 
more  for  my  dearest  friends.  May  God  adopt  all  of  your  chil- 
dren. Give  my  love  to  them  all,  and  to  him  who  honors  me 
by  bearing  my  name  I  send  my  most  affectionate  salutations 
and  blessing.  I  prayed,  on  reading  his  name  in  your  letter, 
that  God  would  give  him  a  new  name  that  shall  be  read  and 
admired  of  saints  and  angels  in  the  book  of  Life. 

I  am  perfectly  happy  in  my  domestic  relations.  My  life 
has  been  one  of  manifold  afflictions,  and  yet  mostly  made  Tip 
of  blessings.  My  health  is  now  more  comfortable  than  for 
many  years  in  earlier  life,  but  I  have  a  thoroughly  broken 
constitution,  which  can  not  endure  a  great  deal  of  labor.  I 
only  preach  occasionally,  though  it  constitutes  my  highest  en- 
joyment. I  have  reason  to  thank  God  that  religion  is  still 
my  great  source  of  happiness.  I  have  an  unshaken  trust  in 
God,  who  has  been  my  portion  through  untold  sufferings,  in- 
fusing into  the  darkest  scenes  of  my  being  a  most  consolatory 
influence.  In  religion  I  have  usually  been  happy,  no  matter 
what  my  sorrows.  I  should  still  delight  in  an  entire  devo- 
tion to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  above  every  thing  else,  if 
Providence  allowed  me  to  follow  my  inclination. 

Your  reference  to  our  Church  difficulties  was  natural 
enough.  It  gives  me  occasion  to  say  that  I  know  no  differ- 
ence between  Churches  North  and  South,  both  of  which  I 


412  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

esteem  equally  sound  branches  of  Christ.  I  have  suffered 
deeply  by  these  dissensions.  I  have  lost  many  dear  and  val- 
ued friends,  with  whom  I  could  not  quite  agree  on  the  sub- 
ject. I  do  not  cast  all  the  blame  on  either  side.  A  sort  of 
necessity  has  pressed,  to  a  certain  extent,  on  both  sides,  and 
bad  passions  have  also  operated  on  both  sides  of  the  line. 
Nothing  has  occurred,  however,  to  impair  my  confidence  in 
the  real,  substantial  piety  of  the  great  body  individually. 

I  wish  to  be  remembered  very  kindly  to  Mrs.  Capers.  It 
would  afford  me  unspeakable  pleasure  to  see  you  at  my  house ; 
but  if  we  are  not  permitted  to  see  each  other  again  on  earth, 
I  trust  we  shall  meet  in  heaven. 

I  am,  my  dear  Ben,  very  affectionately  yours, 

STEPHEN  OLIN. 

CLXXXIX.  TO  THE  REV.  ABEL  STEVENS. 

New  York,  April  3d,  1849. 

The  Philadelphia  Conference  has  followed  the 
Baltimore  in  voting,  one  hundred  and  four  to  one,  for  arbitra- 
tion. Can  you  do  so  in  New  England  ?  I  do  not  know  your 
views,  but  I  am  so  fully  persuaded  of  the  right  and  the  de- 
sirableness of  such  a  course,  that  hardly  any  thing  could  give 
me  more  pleasure  than  its  general  adoption  by  the  Confer- 
ences. We  could  lose  nothing  by  it  that  we  ought  to  wish 
to  retain.  It  would  go  far  to  put  us  right,  and  intelligibly 
BO  before  the  world,  which,  without  some  such  positive  man- 
ifestation, will  never  be  at  the  trouble  of  understanding  our 
position.  Can  you,  my  dear  brother,  promote  such  a  result  ? 
I  feel  how  little  influence  I  can  exert  on  this  subject — less 
than  on  any  other,  with  my  known  sentiments  of  strong  dis- 
approbation of  the  policy  adopted  by  the  Pittsburgh  General 
Conference  in  regard  to  the  "  line,"  fraternization,  &c.  On 
the  property  question  they  seem  to  me  to  have  done  what 
they  could.  I  only  trust  that  the  Annual  Conferences  will 
carry  out  the  peaceful  overtures.  It  will  do  good,  and  will 


THOROUGH     MENTAL    TRAINING.  413 

do  no  harm,  that  I  see.     History  will  applaud  it.     God  will 
bless  the  peace-maker. 

CXC.  TO  THE  HEV.  \V.  S.  STUDLEY.* 

April  14th,  1849. 

I  received  your  letter  from  Lowell  just  as  I  was  leaving 
home  for  New  York,  where  I  was  detained  on  the  business 
of  the  college  above  a  week.  I  returned  home  for  three  or 
four  days,  but  was  unable  to  devote  a  moment  to  other  than 
professional  engagements.  This  is  the  first  opportunity  I 
have  had  for  writing  to  you. 

Your  letter  was  called  out,  I  suppose,  by  my  message  sent 
to  you  by  Rev.  D.  S.  King,  urging  your  early  return  to  col- 
lege. I,  of  course,  had  no  knowledge  of  the  special  circum- 
stances mentioned,  which  seem  to  render  your  longer  absence 
necessary.  I  regret  the  necessity,  and  think  those  who  pro- 
posed, as  conditions  of  your  coming  to  Lowell,  opportunities 
for  the  prosecution  of  your  studies  should  have  seen  to  it 
that  your  time  might  be  in  some  measure  your  own.  Our 
friends  do  not  yet  feel,  as  they  ought,  the  paramount  import- 
ance of  liberal  education  for  ministers;  and  whenever  a  young 
preacher  gets  beyond  the  walls  of  the  college,  he  is  in  some 
danger  of  being  drawn  away  from  his  proper  work  as  a  stu- 
dent by  the  urgent  demand  of  the  Church  for  his  services. 
It  requires  both  some  self-denial  and  some  comprehensiveness 
of  view  to  prefer  study  to  the  pulpit,  especially  for  a  young 
man  who  possesses  warm  feelings  and  some  popular  speaking 
talents.  It  hence  often  occurs  that  our  most  promising  young 

*  This  letter  was  written  to  a  student  who  had  gone  to  Lowell  by 
the  advice  of  Dr.  Olin,  to  supply  the  pulpit  of  a  disabled  clergyman 
for  the  space  of  three  months.  At  the  expiration  of  that  period  cir- 
cumstances rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to  remain  there  until  the 
place  could  be  supplied  by  the  Annual  Conference,  which  would  de- 
tain him  from  Middletown  three  months  longer  than  was  originally 
contemplated.  This  letter  was  a  reply  to  one  in  which  he  had  apol- 
ogized for  and  lamented  his  absence  from  college. 


414  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

men  are  diverted  from  their  collegiate  course  by  the  importu- 
nities of  sincere  but  injudicious  friends.  I  have  seen  a  great 
deal  of  this  kind  of  evil.  I  have  had  occasion  to  mourn  over 
i-t,  and  I  have  become  very  jealous  of  any  arrangement  which 
brings  our  students  into  responsible  situations  in  the  ministry 
during  the  collegiate  course.  You  know  how  much  I  have 
wished  you  to  persevere,  and  graduate  in  spite  of  ill  health 
and  every  other  discouragement.  You  are  more  liable  to  be 
drawn  away  than  many  others,  because  your  services  may  be 
in  higher  request,  and  still  more,  by  the  success  of  your  la- 
bors. Not  many  zealous  young  men  can  resist  the  argument 
which  a  revival  offers  for  preferring  an  early  entrance  upon 
the  work  to  protracted  study.  And  yet  the  real  interest  of 
our  Church  does  imperatively  require  that  you,  and  others  in 
your  position,  remain  in  college  arid  complete  your  mental 
training — though  Churches  be  left,  meantime,  without  pas- 
tors— though  you  abandon  a  revival  to  return  to  college.  It 
is  in  opposition  to  such  influences  as  these  that  I  have  feared 
you  might  find  yourself  unable  to  act.  To  guard  you  against 
them,  I  here  express  my  opinion  that  you  would  do  serious 
and  permanent  injury  by  suffering  yourself  to  be  drawn  away 
from  college.  Gird  up  your  rnind  to  the  struggle  with  pov- 
erty, or  interrupted  health,  or  with  the  more  seductive  solicit- 
ations of  success  in  your  present  efforts  to  save  souls.  Were 
you  with  us  now  in  the  revival  spirit,  you  might  do  more 
good,  probably,  by  leading  one  soul  to  Christ  from  among 
your  fellow-students,  than  scores  elsewhere.  You  will  be 
likely  to  be  many  fold  a  more  useful  preacher,  in  the  long  run, 
with  than  without  finishing  your  education.  I  hope  you  will 
be  able  to  come  back  by  the  commencement  of  the  next  term, 
if  not  earlier ;  and  if,  as  you  hope,  you  shall  then  be  able  to 
remain  in  college  without  interruption,  to  the  end  of  the 
course,  you  will,  I  trust,  be  able  to  get  on  with  satisfaction. 
At  any  rate  and  in  any  event,  I  hope  you  will  not  tolerate 
one  thought  or  temptation  which  would  divert  you  from  a  set- 


UNCERTAINTY     OF     LIFE.  415 


tied  purpose  to  complete  your  course.  God,  I  trust,  has  some- 
thing in  store  for  you,  of  which  the  best  mental  training  will 
be  highly  promotive. 

CXCI.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Utica,  June  20th,  1849. 

.  .  .  .  We  reached  this  place  at  8  P.M.,  and  I  must 
have  traveled  till  1  P.M.  to  reach  Syracuse  in  time  to  be  in 
Fulton  for  the  session  of  to-day,  which  I  much  desired.  I, 
however,  thought  such  a  ride  imprudent,  and  so  reluctantly 
wait  to  go  between  two  and  three  this  afternoon.  It  is  very 
warm,  and  hardly  any  kind  of  effort  is  just  now  less  pleasant 
than  traveling — always  preferring  rail-road  speed  and  mode 
to  stage,  of  which  the  trial  we  had  to  Hartford  last  Monday 
was  memorable. 

I  heard  yesterday  that  the  cholera  is  at  Saratoga  Springs, 
and  that  Mr.  Moriarty  has  fallen  a  victim.  I  used  to  lodge 
with  him.  He  was  a  good  man,  and,  no  doubt,  ready  for  his 
change ;  but  no  instance  has  brought  such  a  sense  of  the  ter- 
ribleness  of  the  scourge  to  me  as  this  death  of  one  I  knew  so 
well.  May  God  preserve  you  and  all  my  loved  ones,  and  yet 
may  you  and  they  all  feel  the  importance  of  being  ready.  I 
think  it  impossible  to  travel  over  the  country  now  without 
some  stronger  feeling  of  insecurity  than  one  usually  feels. 
Yet  all  are  safe  every  where,  in  life  or  death,  whom  God 
keeps.  None  are  in  a  tolerable  condition ;  all  should  quake 
with  terror  whom  he  does  not  recognize  as  in  covenant  with 
him.  This  is  now  the  only  reliable  support.  It  is  always  so. 
Give  my  love  and  many  kisses  to  dear  little  Henry.  His 
lovely  image  is  often  before  me.  How  happy  I  should  be  in 
some  less  responsible  situation,  where  I  might  serve  God  and 
my  generation  in  quietness  and  at  home.  "  Not,  however,  as 
I  will."  My  inmost  soul  subscribes  to  this  sentiment.  .  . 


416  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


CXCII.  TO  J.  O.  WALKER,  ESQ. 

Middletown,  Nov.  19th,  1849. 

I  was  much  gratified  by  the  receipt  of  your  letter  of  June 
llth,  though  it  gently  rebuked  me  for  my  faults.  A  griev- 
ous fault  it  would  be  should  I  be  guilty  of  even  apparent 
neglect  to  one  of  rny  best  and  oldest  friends.  Please  to  rec- 
ollect that  I  live  under  the  habitual  pressure  of  great  respons- 
ibilities, which  perpetual  infirmity  disqualifies  me  to  dis- 
charge. I  do  not  half  perform  my  duties.  I  can  not ;  and 
this  deters  me  from  laying  out  my  strength  upon  any  private, 
personal  object.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  robbing  the  college,  if  I 
use  my  little  ability  for  other  than  public  duties.  Now  I  act 
from  year  to  year  under  this  feeling,  and,  as  a  natural  result, 
I  have  dropped  nearly  all  friendly  correspondence.  I  seldom 
make  a  visit,  except  in  connection  with  my  public  duties  or 
for  the  promotion  of  my  health.  This  has  now  become  hab- 
it with  me,  but  a  habit  founded,  as  it  seems  to  me,  on  good 
reasons.  I  love  my  friends  as  well  as  ever,  but  my  provi- 
dential position,  for  which  I  am  wholly  unfit,  absorbs  me, 
though  I  do  not  half  satisfy  its  claims.  This  want  of  health 
is  the  great  drawback  upon  the  comfort  of  my  life.  I  desire 
to  work  effectively,  though  I  could  be  content  to  do  nothing. 
I  am  doomed  to  toil  on,  achieving  little,  yet  sustaining  the 
burden  of  painful  responsibilities.  Do  not  imagine  that  I 
complain  of  my  lot.  I  rejoice  in  being  able  to  do  any  thing ; 
but  I  deem  it  right  to  state  to  you  why  I  seem  to  be  less  at- 
tentive than  I  ought  to  the  claims  of  friendship. 

I  am  just  now  recovered  so  far  from  an  illness  of  three 
months  and  a  half  as  to  be  able  to  write  a  few  lines.  This 
must  be  my  apology  for  the  brevity  of  this  letter.  I  have,  of 
course,  been  wholly  unable  to  perform  duty  since  our  last 
Commencement.  The  fall  term  will  close  in  some  eighteen 
days  more,  and  I  hope  to  recruit  during  the  winter  vacation. 
My  family  is  well  Indeed,  this  boon  is  granted  me,  that  my 


SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTION.  417 

wife  and  children  are  never  ill.  Children  I  say,  having  now 
a  second  boy,  nearly  three  months  old.  Henry  is  one  of  the 
most  promising  children  I  have  known.  James  Lynch  we 
call  the  youngster,  after  his  grandfather. 

I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  and  aunt  Eunice  are  enjoying 
a  comfortable  old  age  in  the  midst  of  your  children  and 
grandchildren — the  best  arrangement  for  happiness.  I  re- 
joice to  hear  that  Olin  has  regained  his  health  and  is  hap- 
pily married.  I  hope  they  all  are  living  for  eternity,  the  only 
worthy  end.  I  trust  we  shall  renew  our  acquaintance  in 
heaven,  if  not  in  this  world. 

CXCIII.  TO  THE  REV.  S.  LANDON. 

Middletown,  Nov.  26th,  1849. 

I  was  very  glad  to  know  that  you  were  at  my  house,  and 
regretted  to  be  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  your  society.  .  . 
I  remember  that  for  twenty-five  years  I  have  been  in 
the  habit  of  going  to  see  you,  far  off  and  near,  whenever  I 
visited  the  region  north  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  and  was 
on  this  side  of  the  ocean.  I  can  truly  say  that  such  visits 
have  been  very  pleasant  to  me,  and  that  I  always  look  back 
upon  them  as  bright  places  in  the  track  of  the  past.  Now 
the  time  has  come  when  your  journeys  bring  you  near  my 
door.  I  expect  you  will  let  me  see  as  much  of  you  as  I  may. 
I  hope,  too,  that  you  will  bring  with  you  Mrs.  Landon,  and 
one  or  both  of  your  daughters,  so  that  I  may  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  a  family  intimacy 

You  are  aware  of  my  long  indisposition.  I  am  now,  and 
have  been  for  three  or  four  weeks,  free  from  the  intermittent, 
but  I  regain  my  strength  slowly  beyond  any  thing  in  my  for- 
mer experience.  I  spend  two  or  three  hours  daily  in  col- 
lege, and  shall,  I  think,  be  as  well  as  my  usual  inveterate  in- 
firmities will  allow.  I  think  this  sore  visitation  has  not  been 
lost  upon  me.  Strange  that  I  should  still  have  lessons  to 
learn  from  affliction.  But  so  it  is.  I  found  myself  a  prey 
S  2 


418  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


to  unreasonable  solicitudes,  chiefly  for  the  interests  of  the  in- 
stitution, to  which  my  illness  forbade  my  attention.  I  have 
been  enabled,  I  trust  more  fully  than  ever  before,  "  to  cast  all 
my  cares  upon  God."  More  nearly  than  before,  I  think  I 
can  now  say  that  I  am  "  careful  for  nothing."  I  am  enabled 
in  some  degree  to  surrender  my  will  to  His,  and  to  walk  by 
faith.  During  the  latter  part  of  my  illness  especially,  I  have 
had  great  repose  of  spirit,  coming  upon  me  through  the  exer- 
cise of  strenuous,  unwavering  faith.  I  am  trying  to  walk  by 
faith  in  some  higher  sense  than  before.  I  must  try  to  use 
the  vast  resources  of  religion  more  skillfully.  Pray  for  me. 

CXCIV.  TO  MR.  W.  W.  RUNYAN. 

Philadelphia,  Jan.  2d,  1850. 

Yours  of  the  12th  ult.  was  forwarded  to  me  at  New  York, 
just  before  I  left  that  city  for  this,  last  Saturday.  I  take  the 
earliest  moment  at  my  command  to  reply.  I  am  compelled 
to  be  as  brief  as  possible  by  the  state  of  my  health.  You 
have  perh'aps  heard  that  I  have  been  prostrate  ever  since 
August.  I  am  now  better,  but  must  spare  myself  as  far  as 
I  can.  I  was  haj)py  to  learn  that  you  had  devoted  yourself 
to  the  ministry — the  best  of  all  vocations,  in  whatever  view 
regarded,  unless,  indeed,  mere  material  good  be  held  the  chief 
good.  I  congratulate  you  on  your  heaven-directed  choice 
May  God  abundantly  prosper  you  in  the  work.  Having  set- 
tled the  great  question,  you  now  hesitate  only  about  the  time 
of  entering  on  the  work,  and  the  preparation  you  should  re- 
gard indispensable  or  best.  I  do  not  esteem  this  a  very  plain 
question.  Could  I  feel  perfectly  sure  that  you  would  culti- 
vate studious  habits,  as  I  think  you  would,  not  for  a  brief  pe- 
riod but  for  life,  I  should  advise  you  to  enter  the  field  at  once. 
The  Church  needs  educated  men  now,  and  knows  not  how 
to  postpone  its  claims  for  a  theological  course.  By-and-by  it 
will  be  better  supplied,  and  may  postpone  its  demands.  In 
this  view  I  would  say,  spend  the  months  before  Conference  iu 


PREPARATION     FOR    THE     MINISTRY.          419 

learning  the  rudiments  of  Hebrew.  Never  relax  your  efforts 
to  become  master  of  this  language.  Study  it  or  the  Greek 
Scriptures,  if  practicable,  daily,  and  become  thoroughly  mas- 
ter of  both,  which  you  may  do  in  connection  with  an  active 
ministry,  if  you  will  only  continue  to  try.  Your  love  of  read- 
ing will  soon  supply  you  with  the  requisite  theological  knowl- 
edge. I  rather  prefer  this  course.  Should  you  prefer  a  sem- 
inary, then  I  can  not  doubt  that  the  New  York  School  (Pres- 
byterian) might  be  as  good  as  any  for  a  year  or  so.  There, 
or  at  New  Haven,  or  at  Andover,  you  would  study  with  ed- 
ucated young  men  and  learned  teachers.  I  trust  that  the 
progress  of  the  hopeful  school  at  Concord  will,  in  a  few  years, 
enable  it  to  meet  the  wants  of  our  graduates,  as  well  as  of 
young  men  less  advanced  in  literature.  I  think  well  of  it, 
and  take  a  lively  interest  in  its  prosperity.  I  regret  that  I 
am  unable  to  write  more  at  large,  though  I  perhaps  could  not 
add  any  thing  valuable  to  these  brief  suggestions.  I  may  not 
close  without  assuring  you  that  I  shall  ever  be  glad  to  hear 
from  you  on  any  thing  that  interests  you.  You  need  no  apol- 
ogy, I  assure  you.  Let  me  know  what  you  resolve  to  do,  and 
of  your  welfare  generally.  I  have  great  satisfaction  in  be- 
lieving that  you  are  entering  on  a  career  of  much  usefulness. 

CXCV.  TO  1)R.  W.  C.  PALMER. 

Middletown,  June  6th,  1850. 

Mrs.  Olin  wrote  to  you  in  regard  to  my  health,  some  ten 
days  after  we  left  New  York.  I  have  delayed  to  report  prog- 
ress until  the  present  time,  partly  to  be  able  to  speak  more 
to  the  purpose,  and  partly  to  obtain  additional  strength  to 
write,  which  is  really  the  most  trying  of  any  thing  I  at- 
tempt to  do.  The  weather  has,  until  within  a  few  days, 
been  cold  and  damp,  and,  as  I  have  thought,  unfavorable  to 
my  convalescence.  Still,  through  the  Divine  goodness,  I  have 
gradually  improved  to  the  present  time.  I  have  continued 
to  attend  prayers  daily  in  the  chapel,  except  a  brief  absence 


420  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


at  the  Conference,  and  I  daily  spend  from  two  to  five  hours 
in  college,  giving  some  attendance  to  my  duties.  I  walk 
early  in  the  morning  a  mile  or  more  without  weariness.  .  . 
I  do  not  allow  myself  to  anticipate  the  future,  but  only  to 
commend  it  to  God,  who  has  made  me  willing  to  submit  to 
all  the  events  of  his  providence.  My  long  illness  has  not 
been  useless  to  me  in  regard  to  the  highest  end  of  life.  I 
look  back  upon  my  ninety  or  a  hundred  days'  confinement 
not  as  altogether  or  chiefly  a  painful  scene,  but  rather  as  a 
pleasant  period,  in  which  God  made  manifest  to  me  the 
riches  of  His  grace  in  an  unusual  manner.  His  support  made 
my  sick-bed  a  very,  very  tolerable  place.  These  religious  remi- 
niscences are  accompanied  by  a  grateful  recollection  of  your 
untiring  kindness,  and  watchful,  strenuous  exercise  of  skill  in 
my  behalf.  I  hope  my  homeopathic  treatment  may  prove  per- 
manently useful  to  me,  and  I  am  thankful  at  having  had  a 
favorable  opportunity  to  try  the  new  remedies,  under  auspices 
of  the  most  satisfactory  kind. 

CXCVI.  TO  MISS  CALDWELL 
(On  the  death  of  her  father). 

Middletown,  June  19th,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND, — It  is  long  since  I  received  your 
very  interesting  letter  of  January.  I  laid  it  by,  with  many 
others,  to  await  my  restoration  to  health.  It  will  remind 
you  of  the  tediousness  of  my  illness  when  I  tell  you  that  it  is 
only  within  two  or  three  weeks  that  I  have  thought  it  pru- 
dent to  use  my  pen  beyond  the  claims  of  some  business  and 
official  correspondence.  I  have,  however,  been  up  since 
about  the  10th  of  May,  and  have  daily  bestowed  several 
hours  upon  my  official  duties.  I  was  ill,  for  the  most  part 
violently,  and,  as  I  suppose,  dangerously,  from  about  January 
20th  to  May.  Through  the  mercy  of  God,  I  am  nearly  in  my 
usual  health  at  the  present.  You,  perhaps,  know  that  I  am 
always  an  invalid. 


HEAVENLY     DISCIPLINE.  421 

I  can  not  well  express  how  much  sympathy  I  felt  with 
your  mother  and  you  in  the  loss  of  your  little  sister.  The 
recent  overwhelming  affliction  through  which  you  had  been 
called  to  pass  seems  to  have  prepared  you  for  this  fresh 
visitation ;  so  wisely  does  our  merciful  Father  discipline 
His  children  in  the  school  of  deep  sorrow — so  wonderfully 
does  He  proportion  our  strength  to  our  day.  I  rejoice  to 
believe  that  you  and  your  mother  have  been  and  will  be 
supported  in  every  trial  by  the  Divine  grace.  It  is  delight- 
ful to  see  one  so  young  as  yourself  supplied  with  the  blessed 
resources  of  religion.  You  have  learned  the  true  secret  of 
life  and  its  object.  May  you  "grow  in  grace  !"  May  the 
high  principles  of  Christianity  be  your  panoply,  amid  all 
the  dangers  of  the  exposed  period  upon  which  you  are  about 
to  enter,  and  through  which  every  young  lady,  in  our  imper- 
fect state  of  even  Christian  society,  must  pass !  A  close  walk 
with  God — a  strict  adherence  to  Christian  precepts  and  max- 
ims, prayer — the  daily,  diligent,  devout  reading  of  the  Scrip- 
tures— a  constant  preference  for  what  may  be  called  strict 
views  in  all  doubtful  matters — these  will  never  fail  to  secure 
you  from  all  the  dangers  of  youth  and  society.  May  your 
father's  God  and  Savior  be  yours  in  life  and  in  death  ! 

Give  my  love  to  your  mother.  Tell  her  that  I,  and  also 
Mrs.  Olin,  will  be  glad  to  see  her  and  you  at  our  house.  You 
must  come,  if  ever  you  travel  thus  far  South.  May  I  ask  you 
to  write  to  me  again  ?  I  much  desire  to  hear  from  your 
mother,  and  in  regard  to  Dr.  Clark's  health.  I  feel  the  deep- 
est interest  in  his  recovery.  I  trust  that  he  is  much  better. 
Mrs.  Olin  joins  me  in  love  to  your  mother  and  you. 

CXCVII.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Burlington,  August  18th,  1850. 

I  reached  this  place  last  evening,  and  stop  over  Sunday, 
not  knowing,  however,  what  I  am  to  do,  or  where  I  am  next 
to  go.  I  am  already  weary  of  wandering  and  of  visiting,  and, 


422  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

only  for  the  mental  dissipation  which  all  this  motion  and  con- 
fusion necessitate,  I  would  prefer  to  pay  a  substitute  to  make 
excursions  while  I  remain  at  home  or  somewhere  else  with 
my  dear  family.  I  have  no  longer  much  taste  for  sight-see- 
ing. I  hate  promiscuous  company,  and  detest  strange  tables 
and  beds.  I  would  rather  have  just  now  the  company  of 
Henry  or  Lynch  than  a  confabulation  with  scholars  and  di- 
vines. Still,  it  seems  needful  to  travel,  and  so  I  must  even 
travel  on. 

I  stopped  at  Saratoga  till  Thursday  evening,  when,  in  com- 
pany with  Messrs.  Drew  and  Foster,  I  went  to  Montreal, 
reaching  our  hotel  on  Saturday  at  two  P.M.  There  is  not 
much  to  see  in  this  city.  The  great  cathedral — rather  a 
poor  show  in  comparison  with  those  we  saw  in  Europe — and 
a  ride  around  the  mountain — as  a  high  hill  rising  back  of  the 
town  is  called,  and  which  really  affords  a  noble  view  of  the 
city  and  of  a  vast  expanse  of  country — constitute  all  the  trav- 
eler need  care  much  about.  The  really  beautiful  church, 
which  I  was  invited  to  dedicate  three  or  four  years  since,  has 
also  a  good  deal  of  interest  for  a  Methodist.  The  city  is  much 
changed  ;  the  old  French  huts  are  mostly  replaced  by  good 
store-houses,  all  or  nearly  all  having  at  least  the  front  of  solid 
blocks  of  hewn  limestone.  I  was  glad  to  meet  our  ubiqui- 
tous friends,  the  H s,  sitting  by  a  good  fire  in  the  hotel. 

They  went  to  Quebec  yesterday,  and  we,  after  some  misgiv- 
ings about  going  there  too,  came  to  this  beautiful  place, 
which,  on  inspection,  I  find  not  so  handsome  as  Middletown. 
The  site  is  noble.  To-day  I  have  been  to  church  twice. 
How  could  I  avoid  the  imprudence  in  a  hotel,  alone,  nervous, 
restless,  unfit  to  read,  and  yet  compelled  by  a  sort  of  furor 
which  will  not  be  reasoned  with  nor  controlled  ?  You  are 
the  only  performer  that  can  allay  this  troublesome  spirit,  and 

you  are  far  away I  heard  a  good  sermon  from 

Mr.  Janes,  and  a  very  good  one  from  Mr.  Foster. 

Commencement  at  Middlebury  comes  on  Wednesday,  but 


WESLEY  AN     AGITATION.  423 

I  fear  to  go,  and  am  yet  doubtful.  Whatever  good  reasons  I 
may  find  for  going  elsewhere,  you  and  the  children,  to.  say 
nothing  of  others,  constitute  three  strong  reasons  for  taking 
the  shortest  road  to  Khinebeck.  I  shall,  Deo  volente,  be  in 
Poultney  iu  a  few  days,  and  there  I  shall  expect  a  letter  from 
you.  Tell  me  if  Henry  is  a  good  boy  and  wants  to  see  me. 
Kiss  him  and  dear  little  Lynch,  whom  may  God  preserve  and 
bless.  I  feel  more  and  more  the  need  of  your'  society,  and  the 
company  of  the  children.  How  much  I  should  enjoy  home 
and  irresponsible  retirement.  Not  that  I  would  shun  work 
or  crosses,  if  able  to  meet  and  bear  them.  How  needful  is 
faith  in  God  to  such  a  broken  reed 

CXCVI1I.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  M'CLINTOCK 
(On  his  return  from  Europe). 

Middletown,  Sept.  19th,  1850. 

I  learned  last  night  that  you  arrived  in  the  Canada.  I 
congratulate  you  most  sincerely  on  your  safe  return  to  your 
country,  and  not  less  on  the  improved  health  which  is  also 
reported  of  you.  With  many  of  your  friends,  and  of  the 
friends  of  the  Church,  which  is  interested  that  you  should 
live  long,  I  have  often  prayed  for  your  preservation  and  your 
restoration  to  health.  I  now  offer  thanksgiving  to  God,  our 
Savior,  that  he  has  shown  to  you  and  to  us  his  great  mercy 
in  the  good  providence  which  has  kept  you  in  your  wander- 
ings, and  brought  you  back  to  us  refreshed,  and,  I  trust,  com- 
missioned anew  for  a  long,  long  campaign  in  the  holy  warfare 
to  which  you  are  pledged. 

You  will  not  write  to  me,  I,  of  course,  presume,  till  you 
have  a  fight  with  the  accumulation  of  matter  and  care  that 
welcome  you  at  No.  200.  When  you  do  write,  be  mindful 
that,  in  addition  to  every  thing  your  kindness  may  prompt 
you  to  say  of  yourself  and  your  own  welfare,  the  topic  of  chief 
interest  to  me,  I  shall  wish  to  hear  what  you  think  of  the  dif- 
ficulties among  our  Wesleyan  brethren.  Is  it  subsiding  or 


424  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

increasing  in  violence  ?  To  what  does  it  tend  ?  The  state- 
ments we  get  in  the  papers  are  all  rankly  partisan.  You 
may  have  got  nearer  to  the  truth.  How  is  Dr.  Bunting  ?  Is 
he  likely  to  remain  for  some  time,  or  soon  to  depart  ?  I  have 
a  feeling  toward  him  quite  peculiar,  such  as  no  other  man  in 
England  awakened.  How  are  Drs.  Beaumont  and  Dickson 
likely  to  come  out  of  this  business  ? — crippled  and  without 
influence,  the  real  leaders  of  the  movement  party,  or  still 
strong  in  the  confidence,  or  love,  or  both  of  the  "  Body?" 

Allow  me  to  say  that  I  am  glad  you  gave  up  your  inten- 
tion to  remain  abroad.  In  such  health  as  you  carried  with 
you,  I  must  think  a  German  university,  with  its  temptations 
to  you  irresistible,  would  have  been  about  the  last  place  on 
earth  where  you  could  safely  take  up  your  quarters.  If,  on 
the  contrary,  you  have  such  health  as  would  justify  a  win- 
ter's campaign  upon  the  Rhine  or  the  Neckar,  then  we  could 
not  spare  you.  The  Church  needs  you  at  home.  I  think 
you  may,  at  some  future  time,  go  again  to  Germany  with  less 
likelihood  of  damaging  home  interests.  May  God  so  mend 
you  that  you  will  never  again  need  journey  or  voyage  on  ac- 
count of  your  health.  I  will  flatter  myself  that  you  have 
passed  your  crises,  and  will  now  proceed  on  quietly  a  saved, 
sane  working  man. 

CXCIX.  TO  THE  SAME. 

Middletown,  October  2d,  1850. 

.  .  .  .  I  am  much  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  Mr. through  you.  I  have  wished 

to  know  him,  as  most  men  like  to  know  men  of  distinction.  I 
have  been  much  interested  in  his  career  since  he  came  from 
the  West,  as  an  able,  bold,  unconventional  "man — qualities 
for  which  we  should  forgive  some  radicalism  and  recklessness, 
trusting  that  age  will  in  these  respects  give  wisdom.  I  beg 

you  say  to  Mr. that  I  shall  be  highly  gratified  by  a  visit 

from  him  with  you,  if  he  can  come  then — at  any  other  time, 


DEATH     OF     A     GRADUATE.  425 

if  not  then.     Let  me  add,  that,  if  Mr. should  fail  you, 

I  am  one  of  many,  including  Mrs.  Olin,  who  would  like  much 
to  see  our  old  friend  and  pastor  (beloved),  Dr.  Floy,  if  he  will 
oblige  us  and  you  by  bearing  you  company.  Again,  if  both 
should  fail  you,  think  what  advantages  for  conversation  on  the 
thousand  and  one  reserved  topics  your  coming  alone  would 
give.  I  am  anxious,  you  see,  to  remove  all  excuses,  and  to 
insure  your  coming  soon. 

It  is  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  me  to  believe 
most  religiously  that  not  only  the  great  body  of  preachers, 
and  people,  arid  Conferences,  on  both  sides  of  this  sad  contro- 
versy, but,  for  the  most  part,  the  leaders — it  may  be,  I  think, 
all  of  them — are  or  have  been  perfectly  honest  in  the  matter. 
They  have  not  always  been  scrupulous  in  their  measures. 
Too  many  good  men  err  in  this.  They  passionately  and  prac- 
tically "do  evil  that  good  may  come,"  not  perceiving  their 
error  in  the  superabundance  and  the  blindness  of  their  zeal. 
I  know  many,  I  think  most  of  my  friends,  deem  this  facile 
charity  of  mine  weak  and  unwise — some  call  it  artful  and 
designing.  God  knoweth  ;  and  I  find  in  this  position  a  con- 
venient margin  for  the  exercise  of  Christian  love  and  confi- 
dence, while,  with  all  my  heart,  I  disapprove  a  great  deal 
said  and  done  by  both  sides.  It  allows  me  to  hold  on  upon 

my  friends,  if  they  will  let  me,  of  either  party 

I  hope  you  are  better  and  better  in  health,  and  that  God 
has  many  days  and  much  work  for  you. 

CC.  TO  MR.  J.  V.  BRADSIIAW 
(On  the  death  of  his  son). 

Middletown,  October  7th,  1850. 

Your  communication  by  telegraph  did  not  reach  me  till 
yesterday  (Sunday)  afternoon.  It  was  misdirected,  and  only 
found  me  by  accident.  The  address,  intended,  I  suppose,  to 
be  Dr.  Olin,  was  D.  Rollin,  Esq.,  and  the  note  was  carried 
on  Saturday  to  the  store  of  Mr.  Trench,  who  has  a  son-in-law 


426  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

of  the  name  of  Rollins,  not  residing  here.  It  was  handed  to 
me  after  the  sacrament  in  the  church  yesterday. 

I  was  not  wholly  unprepared  for  the  sad  intelligence  con- 
veyed in  your  message.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Hitchcock  spoke  very 
discouragingly  when  I  passed  through  your  town  a  few  weeks 
since.  You  seemed  to  hope  more  favorably,  but  I  dreaded 
the  result.  Few  persons  will  be  able  to  sympathize  more 
deeply  with  you  in  fhis  deep  trial  than  the  Faculty  of  the  col- 
lege, to  whom  your  son  always  endeared  himself  by  his  excel- 
lent conduct.  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  had  occasion 
to  feel  dissatisfied  with  him  on  any  occasion  during  the  entire 
period  of  his  connection  with  this  institution.'  He  was  uni- 
formly upright,  gentlemanly,  and  affectionate.  I  think  that 
he  had  never  an  enemy  here,  while  I  am  confident  that  few 
young  men  made  so  many  friends.  Every  one  expresses  deep 
sorrow  at  his  early  removal,  and  gives  utterance  to  some  pleas- 
ant recollection  of  his  amiable,  winning  deportment  while  a 
student  here.  Your  son's  religious  character  was  remark- 
able for  its  consistency  and  unobtrusiveness.  He  was  a  very 
humble  Christian.  He  thought  unfavorably  of  himself,  but 
was  yet  steadfast,  relying  on  God's  goodness  with  great  as- 
surance, while  he  spoke  very  disparagingly  of  his  own  attain- 
ments and  faithfulness.  I  doubt  not  he  has  found  an  end  of 
all  his  doubts  and  fears  in  the  blessed  light  of  heaven.  I 
should  be  glad  to  hear  something  in  regard  to  his  last  days, 
and  to  his  experiences  in  view  of  eternity,  and  under  the 
chastenings  to  which  he  was  subjected. 

I  pray,  as  many  here  will,  that  you  may  be  supported  un- 
der this  great  affliction  by  the  Almighty  hand,  which  has 
taken  from  your  domestic  circle  one  so  lovely  and  so  dear. 


TO     ONE     UNDER     BEREAVEMENT.  427 


CCI.  TO  MRS.  DWINNELL 
(On  the  death  of  her  husband). 

Middletown,  October  21st,  1850. 

I  learned  through  Mrs.  Smith,  who  had  just  received  a  let- 
ter from  her  friends  in  Cazenovia,  that  Mr.  Dwinuell  has  at 
length  yielded  to  the  pressure  of  his  protracted  infirmities, 
and  has  been  removed  from  this  world  of  care  and  sorrows. 
In  the  absence  of  any  more  precise  information,  I  was  happy 
to  see  it  intimated  in  your  village  newspaper  that  his  last 
days  were  cheered  with  the  consolations  of  religion.  It  gives 
me  the  highest  satisfaction  that  I  could  feel,  in  writing  to  you 
on  such  a  subject,  to  know  that  your  sorrow  is  alleviated  by 
such  an  infusion  of  mercy.  To  mourn  iciih  hope  is  no  doubt 
deeply  afflictive,  but  we  have  an  antidote  from  overwhelm- 
ing sorrow,  in  the  vista  opened  before  us  into  a  better  world, 
by  the  passage  thither  of  one  who  has  been  to  us  an  object 
of  tender  regard  here.  The  feeling  that  such  a  friend  is  not 
lost  to  us,  but  that  our  pleasant  intercourse  is  only  suspended 
— a  feeling  that  comes  to  our  relief  precisely  when  it  is  most 
needed  —  that  is,  when  all  earthly  resources  fail  us  —  is,  it 
seems  to  me,  one  of  the  most  precious  of  the  boons  which 
the  Gospel  offers  us  in  this  world. 

We  hear  of  the  death  of  a  friend  who  departs  in  the  hope 
of  immortal  life.  We  know  that  the  chief  sufferers  have  ac- 
cess to  the  rich  consolations  offered  in  such  a  hope.  I  feel  ill 
every  such  case  that  nothing  remains  to  be  desired.  God 
has  done  all  that  is  needful.  He  has  taken  a  soul  to  himself, 
and  he  has  prepared  the  survivors  for  the  shock  by  the  richest 
consolations  known  to  his  grace.  In  this  view  it  is  that  I  look 
upon  your  bereavement.  I  know  that  you  will  bear  it  as  a 
visitation  from  your  heavenly  Father,  and  this  filial,  trustful 
spirit  will  surely  sanctify  the  dispensation  to  the  promotion 
of  your  highest  interests.  May  it  be  attended  with  a  great 
increase  of  gracious  manifestation  to  you.  May  it  be  made 


428  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

eminently  instrumental  in  leading  your  children  to  piety.  If 
God  shall  so  overrule  this  great  affliction,  you  will  yet  find 
in  it  causes  of  gratitude.  How  poor  the  world  is  without 
Christ !  Each  of  us  has  a  number  of  loved  ones,  the  removal 
of  any  one  of  whom  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  darken  our 
entire  horizon.  We  are,  by  the  inexorable  law  of  our  being, 
destined  to  a  succession  of  such  bereavements,  each  wringing 
the  heart  with  an  intensity  of  misery  many  times  greater 
than  that  of  our  highest  enjoyment.  Our  latter  days,  if  we 
do  not  die  young,  are  to  be  a  growing  desolation.  This  sin- 
gle fact  in  the  common  history  of  men  demonstrates  better 
than  a  thousand  arguments  a  future  state  of  compensations. 
We  must  take  refuge  here,  or,  as  it  seems  to  me,  in  atheism. 

I  beg  to  be  remembered  to  your  children  in  this  season  of 
their  affliction.  I  have  not  neglected  to  pray  for  them  and 
for  you,  that  God  may  overrule  your  temporary  affliction  to 
your  eternal  good. 

I  have  just  sent  to  the  press  a  sermon  on  death — its  con- 
solations and  import,  of  which  I  intend  to  send  you  a  copy 
when  it  comes  out.  It  may  interest  you,  perhaps,  at  this 
time. 

My  family  are  quite  well,  as,  indeed,  they  always  are. 
They  have  not  been  ill  a  day  for  several  years.  Henry  is 
now  three  and  a  half  years  old — a  large,  boisterous,  bright 
boy.  Lynch  is  fourteen  months  old,  smaller,  and  so  far  quiet- 
er. Mrs.  Olin  joins  me  in  assurances  of  regard. 

CCII.  TO  MR.  J.  R.  OLIN. 

Middletown,  October  24th,  1850. 

.  .  .  .  My  health  has  been  somewhat  better  than  it 
was  when  I  was  at  your  house.  Indeed,  I  was  just  then 
disturbed  by  the  excitement  of  being  at  Commencement, 
which  I  was  a  week  or  more  in  getting  over.  I  have  been 
able  to  attend  to  my  business  without  interruption  since  my 
return  home,  as  I  have,  indeed,  ever  since  my  long  illness  in 


PAINT,   YET     PURSUING.  429 


New  York,  which  ended  on  the  8th  of  May  last.  The  least 
excess,  however,  the  slightest  additional  effort  or  excitement, 
overpowers  me,  and  brings  me  quite  to  the  verge  of  serious 
illness.  I  have,  perhaps,  no  right  to  expect  any  greater  ex- 
emption from  this  ever-pressing  weakness,  and  ever  impend- 
ing liability  to  absolute  prostration.  These  are  the  conditions 
under  which  I  have  held  my  office  here  for  eight  years, 
which  have  thus  been  made  burdensome  and  unsatisfactory, 
in  spite  of  the  domestic  and  other  blessings  I  have  enjoyed. 
What  an  unspeakable  boon  would  it  be  to  be  able  to  work. 
How  gladly  would  you  and  I  exchange  our  comparative  re- 
pose for  labor,  for  toil,  if  the  Master  should  permit !  And 
how  little  qualified  am  I  to  determine  what  would  be  best 
for  me  !  How  should  I  ?  I  may  say,  I  trust,  how  do  I  re- 
joice that  my  changes  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  who  is  of  an 
infinite  wisdom  as  well  as  compassion  !  Were  my  convic- 
tions of  duty  as  decided  as  my  inclinations,  I  should  certainly 
free  myself  from  the  responsibilities  of  a  public  situation,  and 
retire  to  some  quiet  retreat,  where  I  might  do,  whether  in 
writing  or  preaching,  what  my  health  would  permit.  I 
should  hope  to  get  clear  of  a  painful  suspicion,  now  always 
hanging  over  me,  of  being  out  of  my  proper  sphere.  As  it 
is,  I  am  conscious  of  not  being  actuated  by  ambition  or  lucre, 
but  solely  by  a  desire  to  do  my  duty.  I  am  kept  in  a  place 
which  my  health  does  not  allow  me  to  fill  properly,  solely  by 
the  opinions  and  urgent  advice  of  friends  of  the  Church,  and 
by  a  consequent  dread  of  deserting  my  providential  position, 
and  thus  doing  harm.  With  good  health  I  should  like  rny 
actual  position,  and  should  not  despair  of  being  somewhat  use- 
ful in  it. 

My  family  are  in  good  health,  as,  indeed,  they  always  are 
— a  mercy  from  Heaven  for  which  such  an  invalid  as  I  am 
can  not  be  sufficiently  thankful.  Henry  is  now  just  three 
years  and  a  half  old,  and  he  is  an  endlessly  talkative,  bois- 
terous, restless  boy,  as  bright  as  a  seraph,  though  not  always 


430  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

as  mild  and  gentle.  Lynch  is  not  quite  fourteen  months  old. 
He  has  lately  learned  the  use  of  his  feet,  which  carry  him, 
with  singular  velocity,  to  every  point  where  mischief  can  be 
done.  We  have  given  him  credit,  undeserved,  I  begin  to 
fear,  for  being  of  a  temperament  rather  less  mercurial  than 
his  brother.  Between  them  they  keep  up  the  most  satisfac- 
tory evidence  of  life  and  motion  within  doors.  I  often  look 
upon  them  with  prayerful  solicitude,  in  view  of  my  own  ad- 
vancing years,  and  of  their  need  of  a  strong  hand  to  guide 
them  on  to  manhood.  God,  I  know,  can  do  for  them  better 
than  their  father.  To  Him  I  can  only  commend  them,  from 
whom  I  receive  them  as  signal  mercies,  lent  us  to  promote 
both  our  comfort  and  piety 

CCIII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  FLOY. 

Middletown,  October  31st,  1850. 

I  felt  exceedingly  pained,  as  well  as  disappointed,  at  hear- 
ing this  afternoon  that  Mrs.  Floy  is  still  far  from  having  re- 
covered her  health — that  she  is  hardly  better  than  when  I 
saw  her  last  June  in  New  Haven.  We  had  heard,  for  sev- 
eral months  past,  that  her  health  was  decidedly  improved — 
that  it  was  daily  improving,  and  I  have  thought  of  her  with 
much  satisfaction,  as  being  able  to  walk  and  ride  out  at 
pleasure.  I  now  learn  that  she  has  not  been  able  to  leave 
the  house  since  you  got  into  your  present  dwelling. 
What  a  comfort  it  is  to  know  that  our  friends,  in  their  times 
of  trial,  have  access  to  the  highest  sources  of  consolation — to 
feel  assured  that  God  is  dealing  graciously  with  them,  under 
all  the  sorrowful  aspects  which  He  permits  their  affairs  to  as- 
sume. You  and  Mrs.  Floy,  I  am  sure,  feel  the  supporting 
hand  to  which  you  have  directed  so  many  afflicted  ones,  who 
have  felt  soothed  and  profited  by  your  counsels,  prayers,  and 
sympathy.  It  is,  probably,  because  I  have  had  a  good  deal 
of  communion  with  you  in  my  hours  of  weakness,  that  I  feel 
in  reference  to  your  family  affliction  as  I  seldom  feel  for  rny 


LAST     MESSAGE     OF     AFFECTION.  431 

fellow-Christians.  My  thoughts  revert  to  your  prayers  and 
genial  converse,  which  cheered  many  an  hour  of  dim  pros- 
pects. To  me  and  my  dear  wife  these  recollections  are  very 
pleasant.  I  might  truly  say,  they  are  affecting,  and  I  hope 
you  will  not  suspect  me  of  departing  from  a  sober  style  in 
saying  that  I  remember  them  thankfully,  and  that  I  feel  spe- 
cially led  to  sympathize  with'you  and  yours  in  your  time  of 
trial.  I  pray  that  God  may  cause  the  cloud  to  pass  away, 
and  that  our  dear  friejid  may  again  rejoice  in  sound  health. 
And  may  you  both  be  graciously  sustained  through  this  and 
all  other  trials  of  your  faith  and  patience  !  .  .  .  . 

I  had  hoped  that  we  might  have  the  pleasure  of  a  visit 
from  you.  I  wrote  to  Dr.  M'Clintock  three  weeks  since,  to 
ask  you  to  accompany  him  in  a  trip  he  had  promised  to  make 
to  see  us.  I  fear  that  you  would  hardly  be  able  to  leave 
home,  but  if  that  should  become  practicable,  and  you  could 
afford  yourself  the  indulgence  of  so  much  recreation,  I  can 
not  tell  you  how  glad  we  shall  be  to  see  you. 

My  health  has  rallied  since  my  long  illness,  and  settled 
down  at  about  the  point  I  attained  to  after  I  had  adopted 
the  hydropathic  practice.  But  for  the  painful  conviction 
which  I  always  feel,  that  I  am  responsible  for  duties  which 
I  can  not  perform,  I  might  enjoy  life  tolerably  well,  since  the 
most  of  my  unpleasant  sensations  are  occasioned  either  by  this 
humiliating  sense  of  unprofitableness,  or  from  attempts  to  do 
something  in  the  way  of  study  or  official  work  to  which  I  am 
not  equal.  I  have  always  the  consolation  of  feeling  that  I 
am  willing  to  do  or  suffer  God's  will.  I  hardly  know 
whether  to  apologize  for  the  tone  of  this  letter.  I  did  not 
intend  it,  but  my  feelings  prompted  it. 

CCIV.  TO  MRS.  J   R.  OLIN. 

Middlelown,  Dec.  23d,  1850. 

I  received  your  note  of  the  18th  instant  last  Saturday. 
I  hardly  expect  to  hear  more  favorable  accounts  of 


432  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

my  brother's  health  than  your  letter  contains,  though  nothing 
could  have  given  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  be  informed  that 
he  was  better,  and  had  some  good  prospect  of  being  restored  to 
health.  For  this,  however,  I  no  longer  look  ;  and  if  he  is  not 
worse,  and  remains  tolerably  free  from  pain,  and  retains  his 
blessed  cheerfulness  and  his  strong  faith  in  God,  his  friends 
have  cause  for  gratitude  ;  and  I  trust  that  we  shall  and  do 
give  thanks  to  the  Author  of  all  good  for  so  many  alleviations 
of  such  protracted,  deep  afflictions.  How  sweet  the  hope  of 
heaven  to  one  so  far  excluded  from  participation  in  worldly 
pursuits  and  excitements.  Freedom  from  sickness,  and  re- 
pose from  cares  and  responsibilities,  to  which  I  am  wholly 
unequal,  through  the  feebleness  of  my  health,  usually  form 
no  slight  portion  of  the  staple  of  my  anticipated  heaven.  I 
mean,  that  such  exemptions  from  the  physical  ills  which 
press  upon  me  ever  rise  to  my  view  as  specially  desirable, 
and  as  good  compensation  for  all  that  I  should  lose  by  ex- 
changing worlds  ;  not  that  freedom  from  sin  and  temptation, 
and  communion  with  Christ  and  with  the  glorious  things  to 
be  revealed  to  us,  are  not  chief  ingredients  in  my  anticipated 
paradise.  I  think  my  brother  must  share  with  me  in  such 
hopes  of  the  future.  It  will,  indeed,  be  a  wonderful  contrast 
with  his  present  condition  to  be  able  to  put  forth  the  untiring 
energies  of  a  disembodied  spirit  in  that  world  where  the  in- 
habitants never  say  "  I  am  sick" — where  he  who  never  sees 
the  inside  of  a  church,  and  scarce  the  expanse  of  earth  and 
sky,  may  rival  the  halleluiahs  of  angels  and  apostles.  I  am 
wont  to  slide  away  into  such  comfortable  musings  when  I 
think  of  my  dear  brother,  stretched  upon  his  bed  month  after 
month,  with,  I  fear,  little  prospect  of  restoration.  For  a  mere 
worldling,  how  cheerless  is  such  a  prospect !  Yet  for  a  child 
of  God  it  is  not  desolate.  It  is  infinitely  more  desirable  than 
to  have  health,  and  prosperity,  and  honor,  and  not  to  have 
Christ.  I  am  sure  it  yields  more  of  even  present  enjoyment 
than  many  of  fortune's  favorites  attain.  Blessed  assurance 


LAST     WORDS     TO     HIS     BROTHER.  433 


that  "  all  things  work  together  for  good"  to  them  who  "  walk 
after  the  Spirit" — "work  out  for  them  a  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  I  think  I  may  truly  say  that  in 
spirit  I  am  daily  with  you,  sympathizing  in  your  sorrows,  and 
praying  for  you  ;  and  I  not  unfrequently  rise  from  this  con- 
verse to  the  higher  thoughts  and  hopes  to  which  I  have  ad- 
verted. If  I  can  in  any  way  lighten  your  cares  or  minister 
comfort,  I  need  not  say  how  gladly  I  would  do  it.  Do  not 
make  a  stranger  of  me.  I  often  wish  that  I  were  nearer  to 
you,  where  I  could  see  you  frequently,  and  contribute  some- 
thing, at  least,  to  my  brother's  cheerfulness  and  social  com- 
fort. And  yet  it  is  probably  better  as  it  is.  I  am,  perhaps, 
doing  some  good,  though  I  am  accustomed  to  doubt  even 
this.  I  am  at  least  doing  something  for  my  family — for  my 
excellent,  affectionate  wife  and  my  two  babes,  who  admonish 
me  daily  that  they  are  likely  to  need  my  guiding  hand  much 
longer  than,  with  my  gray  hairs  and  broken  health,  I  am 
likely  to  be  able  to  extend  it  to  them.  Here,  however,  as  in 
all  else,  I  can  only  throw  myself  upon  God's  mercy  in  Christ 
the  Mediator,  unto  whom  be  glory  forever. 

Mrs.  Olin  and  the  boys  are  in  perfect  health,  as,  indeed, 
they  always  are.  It  is  our  winter  vacation.  We  go  to  New 
York  to-morrow,  whence  I  expect  to  visit  Boston. 

CCV.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Boston,  January  5th,  1851. 

.  I  had  a  long  and  very  interesting  visit  from 
Dr.  Upham  on  Saturday.  He  is  about  to  publish  another 
work  on  the  subject  of  Union  with  God,  similar,  I  suppose,  in 
character  and  interest  to  his  other  works.  What  a  noble 
work  has  this  man  accomplished  in  behalf  of  religion  and 
man !  Thousands  of  minds  have  been  brought  under  the 
influence  of  his  saintly  teachings  and  spirit,  and  he  has  min- 
istered influences  for  good  that  can  never  be  exhausted  while 
the  world  stands.  He  is  exceedingly  simple  in  his  conversa- 
II.  T 


434  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

tion,  and  childlike  in  his  manners  and  spirit — "  an  Israelite 
indeed,  in  whom  there  is  no  guile."  I  hope  I  shall  be  better 
for  my  intercourse  with  him. 

I  preached  this  morning  in  the  Hanover  Street  Church, 
on  the  Lord's  Supper,  with  tolerable  ease  and  freedom,  and 
with  a  strong  desire  to  be  useful.  I  was  not  violent,  and  I 
spoke  seventy  minutes.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  this  bad. 

We  had  a  small  snow-storm  yesterday,  and,  though  clear 
to-day,  the  mercury  stood  at  eight  degrees  below  zero  this 
morning  a  little  out  of  the  city,  and,  I  suppose,  in  it.  I  take 
a  shower-bath  and  a  walk  every  morning.  This,  I  am  sure, 
is  good  for  me,  almost  necessary.  I  want  to  see  you,  as  I  also 
do  Henry  and  Lynch.  May  God  bless  you  all !  Do  not  omit 
Henry's  lessons.  Talk  to  him  about  Jesus  and  his  duty. 
Teach  him  to  pray  for  me.  Kiss  the  dear  little  fellows,  and 
bless  them  for  me.  Oh  that  God  may  sanctify  them  to  him- 
self, and  keep  them  from  all  evil !  Pray  for  them  without 
ceasing. 

CCVI.  TO  STEPHEN  HENRY  OLIN. 

Boston,  January  6th,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  HENRY, — I  wrote  your  mamma's  letter  yester- 
day. I  am  going  to  write  you  a  short  letter  this  morning,  so 
that  you  will  hear  the  latest  news.  You  must  let  your  mam- 
ma read  it,  so  that  she  may  know  as  much  as  you  do  about 
things  in  Boston.  Boston  is  not  so  large  a  city  as  New  York 
— not  half  so  large,  and  these  streets  are  not  so  wide  nor  so 
long,  nor  so  straight  as  they  are  in  New  York.  They  are  full 
of  snow,  and  the  sleighs  are  going  and  the  bells  are  jingling 
all  the  time.  They  don't  use  any  carts  or  carriages  now. 
They  put  merchandise  and  all  such  things  upon  large,  strong 
sleds,  and  not  on  carts.  They  take  the  body  of  the  carnage 
off  the  wheels,  and  put  it  on  a  sleigh,  and  so  ride  very  com- 
fortable and  warm.  The  weather  is  very  cold.  The  other 
day  I  saw  a  very  large,  beautiful  sleigh,  with  six  horses,  and 


JOURNAL,     LETTER.  435 


full  of  many  people.  They  had  beautiful  buffalo  and  fur  robes 
to  keep  them  warm,  and  the  sleigh  had  beautiful  pictures  of 
gold  all  over  it.  The  driver  cracked  his  whip,  and  I  had  to 
run  out  of  the  way  to  prevent  his  driving  over  me.  A  good 
many  sleighs  have  come  close  to  me,  so  that  I  was  afraid 
they  would  run  over  me,  but  I  jumped  out  of  the  way,  and 
so  they  did  not  hurt  me.  There  was  a  little  boy  who  fell 
down  on  the  ice  and  broke  his  leg,  a  little  way  down  the 
street.  When  Dr.  Upham  was  coming  to  see  me  on  Friday, 
the  snow  came  down  from  the  roof  of  a  house,  and  hit  him 
on  the  head  so  hard  as  to  knock  him  down.  He  thought  it 
would  kill  him,  but  he  was  not  afraid  to  die,  because  he  is  a 
good  man  and  loves  God.  Henry  Sleeper  has  gone  to  Sax- 
onville  to  school,  and  will  not  come  home  again  till  next 
May.  He  was  very  sorry  to  go  from  home.  Now  you  must 
be  a  good  boy.  Be  good  to  dear  little  Lynch,  and  kiss  him 
for  papa.  Say  your  prayers,  and  try  to  please  God. 

Your  dear  father,  STEPHEN  OLIN. 

CCVII.  TO  MRS.  OLIN. 

Boston,  January  8th,  1851. 

I  received  your  short  note  yesterday  with  much  gratifica- 
tion, seeing  it  assured  me  of  the  health  and  welfare  of  my 
family,  intelligence  that  concerns  me  above  all  other  worldly 
interests.  I  feel  this  when  at  home,  in  the  midst  of  those  I 
love  so  well,  and  myself  a  witness  of  their  welfare.  I  feel  a 
new  solicitude  Avhen  absent,  which  becomes  anxiety  if  I  do 

not  hear  from  you  as  often  as  every  day  or  two 

Bishop  E called  to  see  me  yesterday  when  I  was  out. 

He  is  much  oppressed  by  the  death  of  Miss  G ,  who  was 

a  chief  friend  of  his.  He  came  to  see  when  I  could  dine 
with  him.  To-day  I  go  to  dine  with  the  Rev.  James  Porter, 
in  East  Boston.  On  Friday  I  am  to  dine  with  Colonel  Brod- 
head.  To-morrow  night  Mrs.  Sleeper  gives  a  party,  chiefly 
clerical,  I  believe.  Yesterday  I  had  a  pleasant  dinner  at  Mr. 


436  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

H 's,  a  family  with  whom  we  had  very  pleasant  rela- 
tions in  Paris  in  1837  and  1838.  What  changes  are  wrought 

by  only  a  few  years !     Mrs.  H was  my  fellow- voyager 

in  1837  to  Havre,  a  young  mother  with  a  babe  some  three 
months  old.  That  boy  is  now  a  boy  nearly  ready  to  enter 
college,  having  four  brothers,  and  a  sister  now  eighteen  months 
old.  The  mother  is  still  youthful,  and  little  changed  in  her 
appearance.  The  family  seem  religious,  and  wealth  and  the 
world  have  done  little  to  mar  a  delightful  simplicity  and  kind- 
liness which  from  my  first  acquaintance  attracted  me  strong- 
ly to  them.  I  always  find  many  agreeable  acquaintances  in 
Boston,  and,  upon  the  whole,  like  it  very  much,  bating  the 
east  wind,  which  has  had  the  grace  to  hold  its  pestiferous 
breath  since  I  came  to  town,  leaving  us  to  very  cold  but 
pleasant  weather,  which  I  enjoy  as  I  do  my  overpowering 
shower-bath,  as  much  as  the  nature  of  the  case  admits  of. 
The  Sleepers  are  kind,  if  possible,  beyond  their  wont,  and  oft- 
en reiterate  the  wish  that  you  were  here,  to  which  I  could 
respond  a  hearty  amen.  I  am  just  now  invited  to  dine  to- 
morrow with  Mr.  Crowell ;  so  you  see  the  hospitality  of  these 
good  people  engrosses  every  day  of  this  week  to  Saturday. 

Give  my  love  to  the  family.  Many  kisses  to  dear  Henry 
and  Lynch.  Be  good,  my  dear  Henry  ;  make  your  mamma 
happy  when  I  am  away,  and  that  will  make  your  papa  hap- 
py. Remember  that  our  Savior  loves  good  boys.  Always 
think  that  he  is  looking  at  you,  and  hears  what  you  say,  and 
sees  what  you  do.  Try  to  please  him  in  all  things  ;  that 
is  your  duty.  Nothing  is  so  good  as  to  obey  and  love  the 
Savior.  You  ought  to  feel  very  bad  when  you  offend  him, 
and  you  will  be  happy  if  you  please  God.  Say  your  prayers 
always.  Ask  God  to  make  you  a  good  boy.  Set  a  good  ex- 
ample for  Lynch,  who  will  do  as  he  sees  you  do.  If  you  are 
good,  he  will  be  good  ;  if  you  are  naughty,  he  will  be  so  too, 
I  am  afraid.  Tell  the  truth.  Mind  your  mamma  always, 
and  then  God  will  love  and  bless  you. 


THE  YOUNG  MEN  OF  THE  CHURCH.     437 


CCVIII.  TO  THE  REV.  ABEL  STEVENS. 

Middletown,  January  31st,  1851. 
I  look  back  with  pleasure  to  my  late  visit  to 
Boston,  and  to  my  delightful  intercourse  with  you  and  my 
brethren  there.  I  was  not  allowed  to  feel  the  slightest  sus- 
picion that  I  was  less  liked  or  confided  in  by  those  from  whom 
I  may  have  some  slight  differences  of  opinion  on  questions  of 
confessed  difficulty.  How  pleasant  it  is  to  open  one's  heart 
in  a  confiding  circle  of  liberal-minded,  true-hearted  Chris- 
tians, where  there  is  scope  for  little  discords  of  opinion  in  the 
mightier  concords  of  a  large  charity  !  I  felt  that,  as  I  al- 
ways do  with  niy  Boston  brethren.  May  God  prosper  you 
and  them  in  all  your  manifold  endeavors  to  promote  the  cause 
of  Christ.  This,  this  is  our  great  work,  and  though  the  hea- 
then rage,  and  the  people  imagine  vain  things,  the  labor 
which  is  thus  directed  can  not  be  lost.  This  is  my  consola- 
tion for  myself  arid  my  brethren.  Our  errors  and  extrava- 
gances will  come  to  naught,  but  our  zeal  and  toil  for  God  will 
not. 

CCIX.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  OLIN. 

Richmond,  January  20th,  1851. 

MY  DEAR.  BROTHER, — Late  on  last  night  I  sat  down  to  the 
perusal  of  your  article  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  and  finished 
it  before  retiring  to  bed.  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  been 
more  enchained  with  a  subject.  In  reflecting  on  it,  I  could 
but  regret  that  such  powers  are  not  more  freely  and  frequent- 
ly employed  to  do  good  in  the  earth.  I  consoled  myself  with 
the  hope  that  you  must  be  engaged  in  the  preparation  of 
some  greater  work  for  the  instruction  and  guidance  of  the 
Church.  I  hope  the  thought  is  not  a  mistaken  one.  At  any 
rate,  I  determined  to  express  to  you,  without  delay,  my  sin- 
cere thanks  for  your  address  to  the  young  men  of  the  Church. 
That  resolution  was  strengthened  this  morning  on  receiving 


438  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

your  sermon  on  the  death  of  Mrs.  Garrettson.  I  have  already 
gone  through  it,  with  increasing  admiration  for  your  powers 
of  speech,  and,  I  trust,  not  without  spiritual  benefit.  In  the 
name  of  my  wife,  who  prizes  the  remembrance  it  expresses 
very  highly,  I  return  sincere  thanks  for  this  benefit  also. 
Mrs.  Lee  will  treasure  the  sermon  as  a  token  of  friendship, 
and  will  read  it  with  a  pleasure  for  its  doctrines,  enhanced  by 
the  great  confidence  she  has  in  its  author. 

In  a  recent  examination  of  the  "  Life  of  S.  Drew,"  I  was 
struck  with  the  correspondence  between  himself  and  the  Rev. 
T.  Jacks  as  to  the  necessity  of  a  standard  doctrinal  exposi- 
tion of  Methodism,  something  like  the  "  Philosophy  of  Meth- 
odism," on  a  scale  comprehending  the  entire  system  of  doc- 
trine, and  its  harmony  with  the  character  and  will  of  God,  as 
revealed  in  the  Bible.  Is  not  such  a  work  still  needed  ?  It 
seems  to  me  to  be  a  lack  in  our  theological  literature ;  and 
who  among  living  men  so  competent  to  such  a  work  as  your- 
self? I  mean  no  empty  compliment,  but  am  in  earnest.  I 
know  nothing  of  your  engagements.  I  know  not  that,  in  the 
multitude  of  your  thoughts,  such  an  one  ever  entered  your 
mind  ;  but  the  suggestion  is  before  it,  and  I  sincerely  hope  it 
may  remain  and  work  out  a  favorable  conclusion. 

You  will  see  from  our  Quarterly  Review  that  I  have 
thrown  my  line  into  troubled  waters.  If  you  should  find 
leisure  to  read  the  article,  and  to  write  me  a  line,  I  should 
like  to  know  if  you  think  I  have  made  out  my  case.  In  the 
article  "  Destiny  of  the  Educated"  you  will  find  views  not 
wholly  dissimilar  from  yours,  above  referred  to. 

I  have  a  craving  to  do  something,  help  to  do  something,  or 
to  see  others  do  something,  for  the  improvement  of  our  min- 
istry. Your  concluding  paragraph  is  a  splendid  specimen  of 
hissing-hot  rebuke.  It  is  an  oiled  cimeter,  that  Truth  drives 
to  the  vitals  of  the  lazy  and  indifferent.  Hit  them  again, 
and  harder  every  chance  you  have,  and  do  it  heartily,  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  and  for  the  sake  of  souls.  Did  you  not 


SOUTHERN     FRIENDS.  439 

once  write  something  on  a  call  to  the  ministry?  I  have 
some  recollection  of  it,  and  would  like  very  much  to  see  it, 
if  my  recollection  is  right.  I  am  writing  a  series  of  editorial 
articles  on  the  subject,  hut,  written  hurriedly,  they  are  imper- 
fect, and,  I  fear,  unimpressive.  Still,  I  hope  they  will  serve 
to  awaken  attention  to  the  subject,  and  do  some  little  good. 
Mrs.  Lee  and  I  often  revisit  your  dwelling  in  our  conver- 
sations of  past  pleasures.  It  would  add  a  new  pleasure  to 
life  to  have  you  and  Mrs.  Olin  to  sojourn,  for  a  while  at 
least,  with  us.  LEROY  M.  LEE. 

CCX.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  LEE. 

Middletown,  January  31st,  1851. 

REV.  AND  DEAR  BROTHER, — I  received  your  letter  of  the 
20th  instant  a  day  or  two  since,  having  been  absent  from 
home  for  several  weeks  previously  to  the  present.  I  receive 
a  letter  from  a  Southern  friend  with  special  emotions  of 
pleasure,  esteeming  such  favors  as  so  much  saved  from  the 
wreck  of  my  early,  cherished  friendships.  For  several  years 
I  mourned  over  the  division  of  our  Church  as  a  public  calam- 
ity. Latterly  I  feel  more  deeply  the  personal,  social  losses  I 
have  been  called  to  suffer,  more,  perhaps,  than  any  other  in- 
dividual, in  the  disruption  of  ties  at  once  harder  to  form  and 
more  necessary  to  us  as  we  grow  old.  I  was  deeply,  and,  as 
I  thought,  lastingly  attached  to  many  early  Christian  friends, 
all  of  whom,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  were  of  the  South, 
where  I  became  disciplined  and  entered  on  life  as  a  man. 
The  tempest  that  has  passed  over  us,  which  has  not  yet  spent 
its  fury,  has  left  few  of  all  those  with  whom  I  had  hoped  to 
take  sweet  counsel  to  my  latest  day.  It  is  the  misfortune, 
and,  as  I  think,  the  crime  also,  of  such  controversies  as  divide 
brethren,  that  charity  is  the  first  virtue  to  disappear,  and  the 
last  to  return.  I  have  a  horror  of  such  strife.  I  distrust  my 
own  self-possession  and  piety  too  much  to  enter  an  arena 
where  so  many  learn  to  distrust  old  friends  and  permit  un- 


440  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

kindly  sentiments  to  supplant  Christian  affection.  I  have 
sometimes  thought  that  you  suffer  less  than  some  others  in 
the  strife  ;  for  though  it  is  not  to  be  concealed  that  you,  too, 
often  deal  blows  that  make  even  the  spectator  recoil,  not  to 
speak  of  the  victim,  you  seem  to  retain,  more  than  some  less 
exposed  persons,  your  kindly  tendencies  to  good  fellowship. 
Be  this  your  lot  evermore,  and  your  distinction  so  long  as  you 
feel  constrained  to  be  a  man  of  war. 

I  have  read  with  care  and  much  satisfaction  your  article 
on  Calvin  and  Servetus.  I  wish  I  had  some  better  ground 
than  you  have  left  to  doubt  the  justness  of  the  conclusion  to 
which*  your  forcible  argument  conducts  the  unprejudiced 
reader.  It  is  painful,  and  not  very  complimentary  to  the 
Reformation  and  to  the  Gospel  itself,  to  be  compelled  to  ad- 
mit that  one  of  its  greatest  lights  was  a  persecutor  unto  death 
by  Jire  of  a  mistaken,  though,  for  aught  that  appears,  sincere 
Christian.  You  must  allow  us  to  charge  the  dreadful  sin 
to  the  times  no  less  than  to  the  stern,  tyrannical  spirit  of  the 
despot,  who  must  be  confessed,  as  you  justly  say,  to  have  been 
behind  his  times  rather  than  in  advance  of  them.  I  am  much 
pleased  with  this  number  of  your  Review,  the  first  I  have 
for  some  time  seen,  and  an  improvement  on  all  I  have  seen, 
especially  in  the  style  of  several  of  the  articles.  Dr.  Doggett 
will  do  good  service  to  the  Church,  which  I  deem  fortunate 
in  the  selection.  If  he  is  properly  supported  by  the  Southern 
ministry,  who  are  almost  all  distinguished  by  the  possession 
of  a  great  deal  of  writing  ability,  which  hardly  any  thing  can 
bring  into  action,  he  will  furnish  a  Quarterly  which  will  bear 
a  favorable  comparison  with  any  in  the  land. 

I  feel  gratified  by  the  favorable  opinion  which  your  letter 
expresses  of  my  two  little  productions.  When  you  propose 
to  me  some  large  work  that  might  hope  for  more  than  an 
ephemeral  influence,  the  suggestion  tallies  well  with  my  own 
fervent  desires,  but  betrays  an  imperfect  knowledge  both  of 
my  mental  and  physical  abilities.  I  am  deeply  impressed 


THE    PATH    OF    DUTY.  441 


with  my  lack  of  qualifications  to  write  a  book  worthy  of  last- 
ing influence.  I  might  try,  however,  but  for  my  ever-pres- 
ent, ever-living  bodily  infirmities.  I  am  really  unfit  for  any 
thing  valuable.  All  I  do  is  in  spite  of  weakness  and  pain. 
I  am  exhausted  in  doing  little  better  than  nothing  for  this 
college.  I  would  give  up  a  place  for  which  I  am  so  eminently 
unfit,  could  I  see  myself  at  liberty  to  do  so.  Then,  as  I  could 
not  preach,  except  occasionally,  I  might  attempt  to  write. 
I  cast  myself  upon  the  Divine  guidance,  and  so  keep  on  my 
course. 

CCXI.  TO  MR.  JAMES  STRONG. 

Middletown,  Feb.  3d,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  letter  of  the  22d  of  January  was  re- 
ceived by  me  on  my  return  home  at  the  close  of  the  vacation. 
An  accumulation  of  business  letters  has  occupied  my  leisure 
for  the  two  or  three  intervening  working  days.  I  wish,  after 
enjoying  such  a  period  for  reflection  on  the  topics  suggested 
by  you,  I  now  felt  myself  qualified  to  advise  you.  In  the 
decision  of  such  questions  of  duty,  which  I  thought  you  had 
disposed  of  to  your  satisfaction  some  years  since,  I  think  there 
is  no  counselor  so  much  to  be  relied  on  as  your  own  convic- 
tions. In  deferring  to  these  as  a  reliable  guide,  I  suppose 
them  to  be  the  result  of  careful,  prayerful  inquiry,  conducted 
in  a  spirit  of  consecration  to  God,  and  of  an  honest  desire  to 
know  His  will  in  order  to  obey  it.  I  can  not  think  that  a 
Christian  man,  who  seeks  the  path  of  duty  in  this  spirit,  dili- 
gently performing,  meantime,  such  duties  as  are  plainly  in- 
cumbent upon  him  in  his  actual  situation,  will  be  left  to  go 
astray  or  to  fail  of  finding  out  his  proper  mission.  If,  during 
such  a  process,  or  after  a  patient  trial  of  it,  you  are  still  with- 
out decided  intimations  or  impulses,  I  think  you  may  safely 
continue  to  serve  God  in  your  present  sphere,  seeking  no 
change  until  the  advent  of  clearer  manifestations.  Indeed, 
it  seems  to  me  that  your  actual  position  is  to  be  regarded  a 

T  2 


442  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

providential  intimation  of  the  will  of  God  concerning  you, 
and  must  be  respected  as  such  until  you  are  beckoned  away 
from  it  by  some  clearer  or  more  authoritative  providential  or 
gracious  call.  If  this  should  seem  to  you  a  just  rule  of  ac- 
tion for  a  Christian  man,  then  you  should  feel  authorized  to 
go  on  in  your  present  course  without  solicitude,  seeking  only 
to  perform  all  duties  in  the  fullest  measure,  and  to  maintain 
a  teachable  spirit  and  an  absolute  willingness  to  serve  God 
in  any  ^vay  He  may  ordain. 

I  believe  with  you  that  our  Church  just  now  needs  culti- 
vated, sanctified  scholarship,  not  less  than  improvement,  in 
the  preaching  function.  It  needs  both  so  pressingly  that  I 
see  no  ground  of  preference  between  the  two  wants,  and 
would  therefore  detail  each  proper  man  to  the  special  sphere 
for  which  he  possesses  the  best  adaptations.  It  seems  highly 
credible  that  yours  may  be  best  for  the  department  of  Chris- 
tian scholarship,  to  which  your  strong  predilection  ought, 
perhaps,  to  be  received  as  a  heavenly  vocation  on  the  same 
principle  that  we  are  to  regard  a  "desire"  for  the  ministry — 
one  good  element  of  a  call  to  it.  On  this  supposition  the  prac- 
tical question  arises,  whether  your  actual  position  and  rela- 
tions are  most  advantageous  for  the  best  prosecution  of  this 
object.  There  is  something  quite  attractive  in  the  idea  of  a 
private  literary  life,  and  few  of  us,  perhaps,  are  quite  free 
from  aspirations  in  that  direction.  We  ought,  perhaps,  in 
judging  ourselves  and  for  ourselves,  to  take  for  granted  that 
we  are  like  other  men,  substantially  and  upon  the  whole, 
though  unlike  them,  it  may  be,  in  many  notable  particulars. 
In  fact,  gentlemen  scholars,  Christian  as  well  as  others,  do 
not,  upon  the  whole,  produce  much  good  fruit  in  this  coun- 
try. I  can  name  many  exceptions,  but  clergymen  and  pro- 
fessors are  the  real  scholars  upon  which  we  depend.  It  has 
seemed  to  me  that,  after  deciding  upon  a  literary  life,  you 
will  do  well  to  inquire  if  some  connection  with  teaching  will 
not  greatly  promote  your  direct  objects,  as  well  as  the  cause 


LOCATION    OF     A     COLLEGE.  443 


of  higher  literary  culture  among  us.  I  am  not  prepared  to 
urge  you  to  adopt  the  suggestion  made  by  me  some  months 
since,  but  I  still  look  upon  such  a  course  as  likely  to  forward 
your  objects  above,  perhaps,  any  other.  The  performance 
of  partial  professional  duties  would  not,  after  a  certain  novi- 
tiate, interfere  with  your  general  objects,  but  would  rather 
facilitate  them  by  giving  you  an  influential  position,  literary 
associations,  and  breadth  of  culture.  Meantime,  you  would 
strengthen  the  institution,  and  render  direct,  valuable  serv- 
ice by  bringing  your  attainments  to  bear  upon  the  best  minds 
among  us  in  the  recitation-room,  as  well  as  indirectly  through 
the  press.  I  suggest  this  as  matter  worthy  of  your  consider- 
ation. Yet,  I  will  say,  it  seems  to  me  to  open  before  you  a 
wide  field  of  usefulness.  I  am  not  a  little  gratified  to  know 
that  you  are  seeking  earnestly  to  do  right.  I  believe  you 
will  be  guided  from  on  high.  May  He  who  is  the  source  of 
light  make  your  pathway  bright. 

CCXII.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  WIGHTMAN 
(On  the  Wofford  College). 

Middletown,  February  21st,  1851. 

REVEREND  AND  DEAR.  BROTHER, — I  wish  it  was  in  my 
power  to  offer  to  your  consideration  some  suggestions  likely  to 
be  of  use  in  the  organization  of  your  new  college.  I  feel  no 
slight  solicitude  that  those  who  have  the  charge  of  this  great 
enterprise  may  conduct  it  to  an  issue  that  shall  honorably 
perpetuate  the  name  of  "WofFord,  and  worthily  uphold  the  rep- 
utation and  the  yet  dearer  interests  of  Southern  Methodism. 
The  Church  has  never  before  had  such  educational  facilities 
placed  at  its  disposal.  Its  responsibility  for  using  them  well 
is  solemn.  I  would  gladly  contribute  any  thing  in  my  power 
to  the  success  of  the  enterprise. 

The  location  and  the  constructions  present  the  first,  and 
perhaps  the  most  important  questions.  I  will  express  my 
opinions  clearly,  but  may  not  have  room  for  many  reasons. 


444  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


As  between  the  village  at  the  court-house  and  a  more  rural 
situation,  I  can  perceive  no  advantage  in  favor  of  the  latter. 
Wherever  the  college  is  there  will  be  a  village,  whether  you 
will  it  or  not.  You  may  at  first,  but  you  can  not  perma- 
nently control  the  character  of  that  village,  and  it  is  best  not 
to  assume  the  right,  and  with  the  right,  the  obligation  to  con- 
trol it.  A  village  created  by  the  business  wants  of  the  com- 
munity is  likely  to  be  better,  on  most  accounts,  than  the  one 
which  will  spring  up  spontaneously  about  the  college.  This, 
having  nothing  else  to  do,  becomes  a  busy-body,  a  gossip,  a 
pretending  patron,  and  the  college,  being  the  only  interest, 
must  live  for  them,  and  the  students  will  get  and  claim  a 
social  supremacy,  likely  to  plague  the  teacher  and  the  stu- 
dent, and  to  denaturalize  and  dehumanize  this  mushroom 
community.  I  prefer  the  old  village,  on  general  grounds. 
Would  I  provide  dormitories,  boarding-houses,  &c.  ?  On  the 
whole,  and  yet  recognizing  how  many  strong  arguments  rise 
up  on  both  sides,  I  answer,  decidedly,  No!  At  the  court- 
house you  can  do  without  them.  In  the  country  you  soon 
can.  The  old  system  requires  too  much  supervision,  and 
then  can  only  partially  satisfy  the  want  it  aims  to  supply. 
Keep  some  control  over  the  selection  of  the  boarding-houses. 
Hold  the  students  responsible  for  good  behavior.  Their  hosts 
will  soon  find  it  for  their  interest  to  co-operate  with  the  Fac- 
ulty in  the  promotion  of  order  and  industry.  I  look  to  the 
change  as  an  improvement  likely  to  prove  favorable  to  the 
students'  manners,  manliness,  and  self-respect.  It  will  tend 
to  keep  up  home  feeling,  and  be  a  tolerable  substitute  for  do- 
mestic influence.  You  will,  no  doubt,  find  special  difficul- 
ties. Every  body  finds  difficulties  under  the  old  system.  / 
am  always  more  solicitous  and  less  satisfied  with  the  working 
of  this  part  of  our  collegiate  system  than  with  any  other. 
Had  I  to  begin  such  an  enterprise,  I  should,  without  hesita- 
tion, make  the  change  on  general  grounds.  There  is  a  spe- 
cial reason  for  the  same  thing,  of  the  utmost  moment.  You 


FAMILY     PRAYER. 


may  expend  $100,000  in  constructions  and  appliances,  and 
then  work  on  in  deep  poverty.  Adopt  the  reform,  and  you 
have  $50,000  on  interest  to  pay  your  teachers  and  live  upon. 
I  can  not  express  to  you  how  desirahle  I  regard  this.  A  col- 
lege that  has  no  endowment  finds  infinite  difficulty  in  gov- 
erning students  on  whom  its  officers  depend  for  bread.  With 
$100,000  in  hand  I  would  try  to  guard  this  point  once  for 
all. 

I  do  not  know  the  state  of  the  popular  feeling  in  South 
Carolina,  but  in  all  this  region  we  are  overborne  with. a  de- 
mand to  popularize  our  courses  of  study,  to  admit  modern 
languages,  natural  sciences,  all  English  literature,  and  I  know 
not  what,  at  the  expense  and  sacrifice  of  so  much  of  the  old 
linguistic  and  scientific  course.  Of  course  nothing  can  be 
done  well  where  every  thing  is  attempted  ;  and  education, 
instead  of  being  mental  discipline,  is  coming  to  mean  a  smat- 
tering of  all  sorts  of  knowledge.  I  know  not  where  this  out- 
ward progress  is  to  cease,  but  it  threatens  to  blight  our  pros- 
pects, and  make  our  scholarship  shallow  and  petty.  It  tends 
to  multiply  teachers  too  much,  and  to  demonstrate  to  the 
higher  appetencies  of  man  the  truth  of  what  the  proverb 
teaches  about  cooks.  I  hope  you  of  the  conservative  South 
may  not  be  so  beset,  and  that  if  you  are  you  may  find  grace 
to  keep  as  nearly  as  you  can  to  the  landmarks  of  a  better 
system  than  that  which  threatens  its  subversion.  There  is 
room  for  improvement,  but  the  conversion  of  our  colleges  into 
universities  and  professional  schools  is  only  an  innovation. 

CCXIII.  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  DEEMS 
(On  family  prayer). 

Middletown,  March  8th,  1851. 

I  have  examined  your  "Home  Altar,"  of  which  I  received 
a  copy  a  few  days  since,  with  much  satisfaction.  Your  pre- 
liminary argument  in  favor  of  family  worship  seems  to  me  to 
be  exceedingly  judicious,  and  well  adapted  to  produce  con- 
viction and  reform  in  all  Christian  parents  who  have  been  in 


446  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 


the  habit  of  neglecting  this  most  important  and  wholly  in- 
dispensable Christian  duty.  Your  discussion  supposes  such 
a  degree  of  dereliction,  on  the  part  of  religious  families,  as  I 
had  never  suspected  to  exist  in  any  part  of  the  country  among 
any  denomination  of  professed  Christians.  I  have  some  doubt 
whether  this  holy  name  should  be  accorded  to  those  who  ha- 
bitually violate  one  of  the  most  sacred  of  religious  obliga- 
tions, and  with  the  right  fulfillment  of  which  the  salutary 
influence,  and  even  the  existence  of  our  religious  institutions, 
are  more  intimately  connected  than  with  any  of  the  more  os- 
tensible and  imposing  forms  of  Christian  effort.  In  propor- 
tion as  family  religion  is  neglected  must  the  Gospel  lose  its 
power  over  the  consciences  and  the  daily  life  of  the  people. 
No  public  teaching — no  overflowing  zeal  and  liberality  put 
forth  in  the  circulation  of  Bibles  and  religious  literature,  can 
counteract  that  inevitable  decline  of  piety  which  will  attend 
the  decline  of  domestic  religion.  I  trust  that  your  timely  ap- 
peal, which  seems  to  me  exceedingly  appropriate  and  instruct- 
ive, as  well  as  awakening,  will  help  to  counteract  an  evil 
which,  in  proportion  as  it  shall  prevail  in  the  Churches,  must 
tend  to  paralyze  the  effects  of  the  pulpit,  the  pastor,  and  the 
press  for  the  salvation  of  men.  Especially  must  the  rising 
generation,  growing  up  amid  the  shameful  neglect  of  the 
most  sacred  parental  duties,  if  they  do  not  wholly  reject  the 
Gospel,  embrace  it  under  conditions  the  least  favorable  to 
the  production  of  deep  piety  and  effective  religious  character. 
The  forms  of  prayer  which  you  have  prepared,  together 
with  other  helps  to  the  celebration  of  domestic  worship,  ap- 
pear, on  the  examination  I  have  been  able  to  bestow  upon 
them,  to  be  unexceptionable  and  judicious.  Their  highest 
recommendation  may,  perhaps,  exist  in  the  fact  that  they  ef- 
fectually annul,  for  every  parent  into  whose  hands  your  little 
volume  may  fall,  the  only  plausible  excuse  for  neglecting 
family  prayer.  The  most  timid  mother,  the  least  eloquent 
father,  may  pray  "with  book" — may  no  doubt  pray  to  the 
edification  of  the  family,  and  acceptably  to  God. 


INABILITY    TO    MAKE     AN    ADDRESS.          447 


CCXIV.  TO  THE  REV.  DR.  FLOY. 

Middletown,  April  5th,  1851. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  your  letter  of  the  1st  instant. 
In  regard  to  the  missionary  address,  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  prudent  for  me  to  attempt  it.  I  have  not  been  to  any 
public  meeting  at  night  for  several  years,  and  act  in  this 
matter  on  a  resolution  deliberately  taken  in  view  of  its  ef- 
fect on  my  health.  Attendance  on  religious  services  in  the 
evening  rouses  my  nervous  and  dyspeptic  symptoms  more 
than  the  more  regular  labors  of  a  week.  Speaking  on  such 
an  occasion  could  hardly  fail  of  injuring  me  more  seriously 
still.  I  hope  I  need  not  assure  you  that  I  would  gladly 
comply  with  your  request,  but  I  think  that,  under  the  circum- 
stances, I  ought  not. 

I  feel  a  degree  of  disappointment  that  Mrs.  Floy  is  still 
kept  in  bondage,  though  I  rejoice  with  you  in  the  more  favor- 
able prospects  of  which  you  speak*.  Upon  the  whole,  I  in- 
cline to  think  that  no  trial  is  more  severe  to  a  Christian  than 
this  long  suspension  of  activity  and  usefulness.  I  am  sure 
that  all  the  bodily  pain  and  suffering  involved  in  the  trial  is 
insignificant  in  comparison  with  the  mental  suffering.  For 
this  there  is  no  remedy  nor  alleviation,  except  in  strong  faith, 
which  I  fear  is  more  difficult  to  exercise  under  these  than 
most  other  circumstances.  "We  must  believe  that  good  is  to 
come  of  all  this.  We  know  it  will  come,  if  we  walk  after 
the  Spirit.  We  all  feel  a  lively  interest  in  Mrs.  Floy's  re- 
covery, and  I  am  sure  that  many  remember  her  in  their 
prayers.  You  and  she  are  remembered  here  with  an  unus- 
ual degree  of  affection  and  respect 

I  dread  these  dissensions.  I  often  think  of 
Paul's  way  of  speaking  of  the  Church,  which  Christ  purchased 
with  His  own  blood.  How  careful  ought  I,  as  his  minister, 
to  be  !  how  forbearing  and  long-suffering,  before  I  run  any 
the  least  hazard  of  sowing  the  seeds  of  strife. 


448 


LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


5 

CHAPTER  XL 

CLOSING  SCENES. 

TOWARD  the  close  of  the  winter  vacation,  during 
which  he  made  a  visit  to  Boston,  Dr.  Olin  preached 
twice  in  New  York — once  in  Seventh  Street  Church, 
and  once  in  the  AYesleyan  Chapel  in  Mulberry  Street. 
On  the  latter  occasion,  the  great  truths  contained  in  his 
text,  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling,  for  it  is  Gfod  who  worketh  in  you  both  to 
will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure,"  were  unfolded 
and  enforced  with  deep  solemnity  ;  and  had  he  known 
that  he  was  speaking  "  the  words  of  this  life"  for  the 
last  time  to  his  brethren  in  New  York,  his  appeals 
could  scarcely  have  been  more  earnest  and  more  heart- 
searching.  During  the  sermon,  one  young  man,  whose 
parents  were  friends  of  Dr.  Olin,  was  enabled  to  find 
peace  with  Grod,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.* 

On  his  return  to  Middletown  at  the  commencement 
of  the  term,  his  health  was  so  good  that  he  felt  encour- 
aged to  attempt  a  work  which  he  had  long  wished  to 
do — to  prepare  for  the  students  a  course  of  lectures  on 
Moral  Philosophy.  Before  beginning  this  course,  he 
proposed  writing  two  lectures  on  the  Theory  and  Prac- 
tice of  Scholastic  Life,  a  theme  giving  scope  for  hints 
and  suggestions,  the  value  of  which  had  been  tested 

*  He  preached  but  two  sermons  after  this — a  missionary  sermon 
at  Hartford,  and  one  at  the  dedication  of  a  church  in  Willimantic. 


CLOSING     SCENES.  449 

by  his  experience  and  large  observation.  The  two  lec- 
tures, however,  only  left  him  on  the  threshold  of  the 
subject,  and  he  wrote  on,  devoting  nearly  all  the  hours 
of  every  day  not  claimed  by  official  duties  to  the  labor 
of  composition,  till  he  found  that  seven  lectures  were 
necessary  to  give  expression  to  his  views.  These  lec- 
tures have  been  given  to  the  public,  in  the  second  vol- 
ume of  his  works,  precisely  as  he  wrote  them.  In  the 
clear  lines  of  the  manuscript  there  are  no  traces  of  re- 
vision— his  thoughts  at  once  took  permanent  shape  and 
form.  Indeed,  he  uniformly  wrote  with  so  much  ac- 
curacy at  the  first  draft,  that  his  manuscripts  needed 
but  slight  revision  for  the  press. 

When  he  had  written  the  fourth  lecture,  he  began 
to  deliver  them  to  the  students,  who,  with  the  profess- 
ors, were  assembled  in  the  chapel  on  the  mornings  of 
Tuesday  and  Friday,  at  eleven  o'clock.  He  was  now 
fulfilling  one  of  his  cherished  hopes — addressing  young 
men  on  matters  of  great  practical  importance  ;  and  he 
proposed  delivering  this  course  every  year  to  the  fresh- 
man class,  as  well  adapted  to  give  them  high  aims  and 
rightly  to  direct  their  steps  as  they  entered  upon  col- 
lege life.  He  was  disappointed  to  find  his  health  un- 
favorably affected  by  the  delivery  of  the  lectures  ;  but 
he  continued  to  write  the  remaining  three  lectures, 
which  were  never  to  be  uttered  by  his  lips !  While 
reading  the  fourth  lecture,  he  turned  very  pale,  and  sat 
down ;  but  the  change  of  attitude  relieving  the  mo- 
mentary faintness,  he  was  able  to  read  on  to  the  close. 
This  was  the  last  time  he  spoke  in  public.  The  sev- 
enth and  concluding  lecture  of  the  course  lacked  but 
two  pages,  when  his  hand  was  arrested  by  increasing 


450  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

weakness.  His  mind  had  been  in  vigorous  and  spon- 
taneous action,  thoughts  and  words  flowing  freely ; 
but  he  had  overtasked  his  strength,  and  his  course  was 
now  stayed.  His  last  public  counsels  were  addressed 
to  students,  whose  interests  were  ever  near  his  heart 
— for  them  were  his  last  literary  labors ;  and  the  last 
time  he  touched  pen  to  paper,  but  ten  days  before  his 
death,  was  to  write  his  name  upon  the  diplomas  of  the 
graduating  class. 

He  postponed  the  remaining  lectures  till  firmer 
health  should  enable  him  to  complete  the  course,  and 
obeyed  a  summons  to  New  York  from  the  chairman  of 
a  committee  (of  which  he  was  one)  appointed  to  revise 
the  Catechism.  He  hoped  that  the  change  of  air  and 
a  few  sails  on  the  New  York  Bay  might  ward  off  the 
attack  which  now  threatened  him.  He  took  his  little 
son  Henry  to  visit  his  grand-parents,  saying  that  he 
would  soon  be  old  enough  to  accompany  him  on  his 
journeys,  and  that  his  company  would  be  a  source  of 
great  satisfaction  to  him.  The  weather  proved  unfavor- 
able ;  constant  rain  prevented  any  excursions,  and,  after 
devoting  himself  for  several  days  to  the  business  upon 
which  he  had  been  called,  he  returned  home  not  at  all 
improved  by  his  journey.  He  was  not  able  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  session  of  the  New  York  East  Annual  Con- 
ference in  May ;  but  his  brethren  proved  their  regard 
for  him  by  placing  his  name  first  on  the  list  of  dele- 
gates to  the  ensuing  General  Conference.*  He  made 

*  During  the  session  of  the  General  Conference,  which  met  in  Bos- 
ton, May,  1852,  Dr.  Holdich  presented  the  following  preamble  and  res- 
olution, which  were  unanimously  adopted  by  a  rising  vote:  "Where- 
as it  has  pleased  Almighty  God  to  remove  by  death  the  Rev.  Stephen 


CLOSING    SCENES.  451 

another  effort  to  rally  —  he  went  again  to  New  York, 
and  repeatedly  sailed  to  Staten  Island,  with  the  hope 
that  the  sea-breeze  might  prove  healthful  and  invig- 
orating. From  exposure,  however,  he  took  cold,  and 
he  was  confined  to  the  house  for  some  days  with  in- 
flammation of  the  lungs,  from  which  he  so  far  recover- 
ed as  to  return  home,  only  to  remain  a  prisoner  on  his 
couch  in  the  study.  He  dressed  himself  daily,  as  usual, 
and  came  to  his  meals ;  but  no  medicine  had  any  ef- 
fect upon  the  chills  and  fever,  the  familiar  enemy 
which  held  him  in  its  grasp.  He  sometimes  strolled 
on  the  piazza,  and  made  bows  and  arrows  for  the  little 
Henry,  the  unfolding  of  whose  powers  of  body  and 
mind  he  watched  with  the  most  lively  interest.  One 
day  he  ventured  to  hope  that  the  disease  was  mastered. 
A  long  interval  had  passed  without  a  chill ;  he  felt  bet- 
ter and  brighter  than  he  had  done  since  the  beginning 

Olin,  D.D.,  L.L.D.,  late  president  of  the  Wesleyan  University,  who 
was  a  member  elect  to  this  General  Conference,  from  the  New  York 
East  Conference ;  therefore, 

"Resolved,  That  while  we  desire  to  bow  with  humble  submission  to 
this  dispensation  of  the  Divine  hand,  we  unfeignedly  mourn  the  de- 
parture of  one  who,  by  his  soundness  of  faith,  purity  of  life,  compre- 
hensiveness of  intellect,  and  extensive  learning,  was  so  well  qualified 
to  be  a  light  and  a  guide  in  our  Israel ;  but  while  we  regret  that  we 
can  not  enjoy  the  benefit  of  his  counsel  in  this  General  Conference, 
and  that  the  Church  militant  is  deprived  of  his  eminently  useful  la- 
bors, we  rejoice  in  the  satisfactory  assurance  that  he  has  left  the 
Church  on  earth  to  be  united  to  the  Church  in  heaven,  and  that  in 
life  and  death  he  had  made  manifest  the  power  and  excellency  of  re- 
deeming grace." 

Resolutions  similar  to  this  in  tone  were  passed  by  the  students 
and  by  the  alumni  of  the  Wesleyan  University,  by  the  Board  of  Man- 
agers of  the  Missionary  Society  of  the  Methodist  Church,  by  the 
Genesee  Conference,  by  the  Preachers'  Meeting  in  New  York,  and 
by  the  Bedford  Street  Church. 


452  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

of  his  illness.  He  drove  out  with  his  wife  to  Middle- 
field,  and  at  an  antiquated  place,  called,  in  his  family 
parlance,  the  Ancient  Neighborhood,  he  got  out  of  the 
carriage  to  cut  some  cedar  branches  for  bows  for  his 
little  boy.  He  said  that  it  would  please  the  little  fel- 
low to  know  that  he  had  been  thought  of  during  the 
drive.  The  balmy  air  seemed  to  give  him  new  life. 
His  spirits  rose,  and  he  indulged  hopes  that  he  was  now 
to  be  restored  to  health  and  activity — hopes  which  he 
had  not  known  for  several  months,  and  which  made 
that  drive  truly  delightful.  It  was  his  last  happy 
drive.  Two  or  three  times  he  drove  out  subsequently, 
but  as  an  invalid  in  the  carriage  of  his  physician. 
That  night,  with  periodic  certainty,  the  chill  came — 
the  enemy  was  still  in  the  strong-hold. 

On  Tuesday,  July  22d,  an  early  Southern  friend,  into 
whose  family  he  had  been  most  cordially  received  when 
he  first  went  to  the  South,  and  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  seventeen  years,  came  with  her  husband  to  see  him, 
having  taken  a  journey  of  seventy  miles  for  that  pur- 
pose. This  visit  was  a  great  gratification  to  him.  It 
brought  up  most  vividly  remembrances  of  the  scenes 
and  the  friends  of  his  early  manhood.  He  heard,  too, 
with  deep  emotion,  the  declaration  of  his  friend,  made 
to  Mrs.  Olin,  that  to  him  she  owed  more  than  to  any 
man  living,  for  that  through  his  instrumentality  she 
had  been  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  He 
remembered  speaking  plainly  and  earnestly  to  her  about 
the  great  interests  of  her  soul,  but  he  did  not  know  that 
his  words  had  had  any  agency  in  leading  her  to  the  de- 
termination to  live  for  Christ. 

The  next  Saturday  James  Lynch,  the  dear  little  two- 


CLOSING     SCENES.  453 


years'  old  boy,  who  had  been  sporting  round  in  all  the 
joyousness  of  health,  pleased  with  the  visit  of  this  lady, 
was  taken  ill  with  the  dysentery,  then  an  epidemic  in 
the  place.  On  the  Friday  after,  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  he  died.  During  that  sorrowful  week,  as 
Dr.  Olin  lay,  feeble  and  lonely  on  the  couch  in  the 
study,  which  was  under  the  room  occupied  by  the  pa- 
tient little  sufferer,  he  went  through  all  the  pangs  of 
the  impending  separation.  The  pattering  of  the  little 
feet,  so  ready  to  run  to  the  study — the  lessons  of  cheer- 
ful obedience  just  learned,  the  daily  invitation  to  din- 
ner, and  the  little  triumph  of  leading  his  father  into 
the  dining-room — the  bright  little  face,  the  large,  deep 
blue  eyes,  with  that  peculiar  inward  look  —  all  the 
winning  charms  of  this  treasure  lent  had  been  present 
with  him  in  those  solitary  hours. 

On  Thursday  afternoon  he  was  called  up  to  take 
leave  of  the  little  one,  whose  last  lisping  words  were 
those  of  prayer  and  love.  The  father,  who  was  suffer- 
ing with  the  pain  of  the  same  disease,  was  completely 
overcome  with  those  farewell  words.  It  seemed  to  him, 
as  he  afterward  said,  as  if  the  spiritual  was  already 
shining  out  and  asserting  its  power,  as  the  earthly  part 
was  fading  away  ;  and  when  asked  to  look  upon  the 
lovely  little  marble  image  ere  it  was  buried  out  of  his 
sight,  he  said  no  ;  he  wished  ever  to  retain  the  remem- 
brance of  that  "  Good-by,  papa" — that  was  his  child's 
farewell.  But  it  was  when  they  came  to  take  away 
his  child  and  bury  him  that  the  fountains  of  the  great 
deep  of  his  heart  were  broken  up,  and  his  emotion  be- 
came so  uncontrollable  that  it  alarmed  those  who  stood 
bos  id  e  him.  The  funeral  services  began,  and  the  Rev. 


454  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

Mr.  Reid  made  an  address  in  the  hall,  that  it  might  be 
heard  by  the  family  up  stairs  ;  but  Dr.  Olin,  who  was 
now  confined  to  his  bed,  found  the  effort  to  hear  too 
painful  for  him,  and  turning  to  the  kind  physician,  who 
had  come  to  sit  by  his  bedside  in  that  hour  of  trial,  he 
carried  out  a  train  of  thought  on  which  his  mind  had 
been  previously  occupied.  He  spoke  of  the  dawning 
of  intelligence  in  a  child — of  the  gradual  development 
of  reason  as  suggesting  the  inquiry  whence  this  intel- 
ligence? It  can  not  have  created  itself — it  can  not 
be  the  offspring  of  matter — it  must  have  proceeded  from 
a  higher  intelligence,  and,  if  so,  where  and  what  is  this 
intelligence  ?  There  was  no  escaping,  he  thought, 
from  the  conclusion  to  which  such  reasonings  lead  us 
— the  belief  in  Grod,  the  creator  of  all.  Christianity  is 
the  only  solution  for  the  problems  by  which  we  are 
surrounded.  He  thought,  he  subsequently  said,  that 
it  was  no  desecration  of  that  solemn  hour  thus  to  con- 
verse, and  he  felt  the  absolute  necessity  of  turning  away 
from  the  agonizing  thoughts,  too  poignant  for  his  de- 
bilitated frame. 

He  requested  his  friend,  Professor  Lindsay,  to  call 
every  morning  and  evening,  on  his  way  to  his  board- 
ing-house, to  pray  with  him,  and  said  to  him,  with  deep 
feeling,  "  You  have  a  new  claim  upon  our  regard,  be- 
cause our  little  boy  loved  you  so  much."  On  the  Mon- 
day before  Commencement,  he  had  a  violent  attack  of 
hiccough,  which  alarmed  his  physician,  Dr.  Harrison, 
who  attended  him  throughout  this  illness  with  the  most 
watchful  care.  Dr.  Harrison  remarked  that  he  had 
known  even  old  persons  recover  from  such  an  attack ; 
and  after  he  left  the  room,  Dr.  Olin  turned  to  his  wife, 


CLOSING     SCENES.  455 


and  said,  most  emphatically,  "  You  see  what  he  thinks 
of  my  case."  But  this  passed  away,  and  as  the  disease 
did  not  assume  a  very  severe  form,  no  special  appre- 
hensions were  entertained  by  any  of  the  household,  sev- 
eral of  whom  were  prostrated  by  the  same  epidemic. 
The  next  day  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  signed  the  diplomas 
as  they  were  handed  to  him.  It  was  the  last  act  of 
his  official  life. 

Commencement  day,  which  was  on  Wednesday,  the 
6th  of  August,  like  one  memorable  in  his  early  history, 
passed  sadly  enough.  On  both  days  was  he  prostrate 
and  enfeebled,  and  the  words  he  was  to  have  uttered 
were  spoken  by  another ;  but  how  changed  was  his 
position  and  prospects  !  Then,  though  he  was  appar- 
ently drawing  nigh  to  the  gates  of  death,  over  which 
gleamed  no  bow  of  heavenly  hope,  yet  abundant  mer- 
cies were  in  store  for  him,  and  a  holy  and  useful  life 
awaited  him.  Now  that  his  appointed  hour  was  in- 
deed at  hand,  he  could,  "  resting  on  the  old  founda- 
tion," look  back  on  a  past  blessed  by  G-od's  presence 
and  spent  in  His  service,  and  in  meek  submission  to 
His  will ;  and  forward  to  a  future,  where  he  would 
find  "  his  own  place"  amid  that  ransomed  host  to  whose 
anthems  of  praise  his  own  spirit  had  been  so  long  at- 
tuned. 

The  day  after  Commencement,  Bishop  Janes  and  Dr. 
Floy  called  to  see  him,  and  the  bishop  prayed  with 
him.  On  the  next  Friday,  as  the  physician  advised  that 
Henry  should  be  sent  to  his  relations  in  Rhinebeck,  he 
came  bounding  into  the  room,  pleased  with  the  thought 
of  leaving  the  house — so  silent,  lonely,  and  sad  to  him, 
— for  "  happy  G-lenburn,"  associated  with  his  childish 


456  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

images  of  delight.  His  father  told  him  to  get  on  the 
bed,  and,  crossing  his  hands  upon  his  head,  he  breathed 
a  deep  and  heartfelt  prayer,  and  pronounced  a  solemn 
benediction.  One  long,  close  embrace,  and  the  two 
were  parted.  As  the  unconscious  child  left  the  room, 
the  father  said,  "  I  shall  never  see  that  boy  again !" 
On  Monday  he  eagerly  listened  to  the  letter  which  told 
of  Henry's  well-doing  ;  and  the  last  time  he  mentioned 
the  beloved  child  was  two  nights  before  his  death,  when 
he  held  out  his  right  hand,  exclaiming,  with  deep  so- 
lemnity, "The  hand  of  the  Lord  be  upon  my  son 
Henry !" 

One  day,  when  the  papers  were  brought  in  from  the 
post-office,  he  desired  his  wife  to  read  the  names  of 
those  who  were  the  subjects  of  the  obituary  notices  in 
the  Southern  Christian  Advocate.  He  said  he  always 
looked  at  that  column  with  interest,  as,  in  that  record 
of  those  who  had  passed  away  to  the  better  land,  he 
frequently  recognized  the  names  of  the  old  familial- 
friends  of  other  days.  Not  "of  the  earth,  earthy,"  was 
this  last  message  brought  to  him  by  the  printed  page. 

On  Tuesday,  the  12th  of  August,  the  physician  an- 
nounced, in  his  most  cheerful  voice,  that  Dr.  Olin  was 
better,  and  confirmed  the  statement  the  next  morning, 
adding  that  his  pulse  was  stronger  than  it  had  been 
during  his  illness.  He  said  before  his  patient  that  he 
had  been  seriously  alarmed  about  him  on  the  Monday 
when  he  was  attacked  with  the  hiccough,  but  he  now 
thought  the  danger  over.  Dr.  Olin  observed  to  his 
wife,  "  You  know  I  always  told  you  that  if  I  were  at- 
tacked with  dysentery,  dropsy,  or  any  acute  disease, 
that  it  would  make  an  end  of  me ;  but  it  may  please 


CLOSING     SCENES.  457 

G-od  to  lift  me  out  of  this,  and  we  will  take  the  little 
lad  and  go  somewhere." 

Were  the  morning  and  evening  the  same  day  ?  That 
afternoon  the  hiccough  attacked  him  very  violently,  his 
pulse  fell,  and  the  changed  expression  of  the  physician's 
face  told  but  too  plainly  his  forebodings.  In  the  still 
watches  of  that  night,  Dr.  Olin  said,  "  0  Lord !  is  my 
time  come  ?  Hast  thou  no  more  work  for  me  to  do  on 
earth,  and  hast  thou  a  work  for  me  to  do  in  heaven  ? 
Well,  take  me,  and  bless  those  I  leave  behind  me." 

One  of  his  brethren,*  who  kindly  and  repeatedly 
watched  by  his  bedside,  writes  : 

"  The  doctor  was  fully  alive  to  the  liabilities  of  his  posi- 
tion. He  desired  that  a  number  of  his  friends  and  members 
of  the  Joint  Board  should  be  at  once  summoned,  that  he 
might  make  a  communication  to  them.  Several  of  them 
reached  his  bedside  in  time  to  be  recognized,  and  by  their 
presence  and  prayers  to  cheer  him  as  he  walked  down  into 
the  valley  and  shadow  of  death ;  but  he  had  not  power  to 
address  them.  In  his  moments  of  temporary  delirium  he 
seemed  to  be  urging  this  same  matter,  assuring  his  friends 
that  he  had  not  sought  the  office  which  he  held,  or  retained 
it  on  his  own  account,  but  that  it  had  been  urged  upon  him, 
and  that  his  motives  had  been  of  the  highest  and  purest  char- 
acter. 

"  On  Thursday  afternoon  he  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  prayer. 
Evidently  meditating  upon  his  probable  decease,  and  upon 
the  solemn  mysteries  of  another  world,  gasping  between  each 
word,  he  began  to  speak  :  '  How  mysterious  that  in  a  few 
days,  perhaps  a  few  hours,  without  any  premonition,  the  Di- 
vine Being  will  call  the  soul  into  eternity.'  '  But  he  docth 
all  things  well,'  remarked  one  by  the  bedside.  '  What 

*  The  Rev.  B.  K.  Peirce. 

TT.  U 


458  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

thinking  man,'  continued  the  doctor,  '  would  dare  say  to  the 
great  onward  movements  of  Divine  Providence,  nay  !  I 
would  not."  Pausing  a  moment,  and  speaking  with  indescrib- 
able feeling,  he  added,  '  I  would  say,  the  will  of  the  Lord  be 
done  !' 

"  As  Dr.  Floy  came  in,  late  in  the  evening,  he  remarked 
to  him  as  he  pressed  his  hand,  '  Very  low,  but  the  physicians 
are  not  without  hope.'  '  You  have,'  said  Dr.  Floy,  '  hope  in 
Christ,  I  doubt  not.'  '  Oh !  yes,  hope  in  Christ' — pointing 
with  his  finger  upward — '  most  certainly,  alone  in  Christ.'  " 

On  Thursday  afternoon  he  called  to  his  bedside  Mr. 
White,  a  student,  whose  unremitting  attentions,  and 
faithfulness  in  carrying  out  the  physician's  prescrip- 
tions, were,  he  said,  invaluable  to  him,  and  lifting  up 
his  hand,  he  said,  with  the  deepest  emphasis,  "The 
Lord  bless  this  young  man  abundantly,  now  and  ever- 
more !"  His  salutations  to  his  friends  had  taken  the 
form  of  benedictions.  £ '  The  Lord  bless  you  and  yours !" 
he  said  to  Professor  Smith,  on  Friday.  "The  Lord 
bless  you,  my  sister !"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Loomis,  as  she 
approached  him,  and  he  gave  a  parting  blessing  to  his 
sister-in-law,  who  was  completely  overcome  with  the 
deep  meaning  of  that  last  look. 

Mr.  White,  who  watched  by  his  bedside  night  and 
day,  said  that  his  religion  seemed  interwoven  with  his 
whole  nature,  that  all  his  utterances,  gasping  and  in- 
distinct as  they  might  be,  or  even  wandering  as  they 
were  at  the  last,  had  some  reference  to  the  great  theme. 
"Pray  for  the  state,"  he  said,  on  awaking  from  slum- 
ber, "  that  its  rulers  may  be  men  of  Grod."  He  tried 
to  go  on,  but  signified  that  he  was  unable  to  express 
what  he  meant  to  say.  On  another  occasion,  in  apol- 


CLOSING    SCENES.  459 

ogizing  for  the  trouble  he  gave,  he  said,  "  It  is  not  from 
me,  but  from  God,"  and  then  intimated  that  he  could 
not  express  his  meaning,  which  was  that  his  illness, 
with  the  consequent  care  that  it  involved,  was  provi- 
dential. 

Friday  morning  his  symptoms  were  more  favorable. 
He  felt  relieved  from  the  agony  he  had  suffered  for  a 
fortnight,  ten  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  "  How 
sweet  this  is,"  he  said  ;  "  I  have  known  nothing  so  soft 
and  peaceful  for  many  days.  This  is  from  G-od — all 
good  comes  from  Him."  In  the  afternoon  he  put  his 
hand  caressingly  on  his  wife's  forehead,  and  said, "  Dear 
little  lamb  !  may  the  Lord  keep  you  from  all  evil,  and 
bless  you  with  all  good  for  evermore."  It  was  the  last 
blessing  he  pronounced. 

About  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Bishop  Janes  a'r- 
rived  from  New  York,  and,  with  some  friends  from  Bos- 
ton, came  to  his  bedside.  After  the  usual  salutations, 
he  inquired,  "  What  is  the  state  of  your  mind?"  Dr. 
Olin  replied,  "  I  am  resting  on  the  old  foundation." 
"  That  is  safe,"  said  the  bishop.  He  responded,  "Yes, 
and  I  shall  be  saved,  though  it  be  as  by  fire."  After 
a  moment  he  repeated,  "  I  shall  be  saved  !"  He  after- 
ward said  something  about  the  Church,  which  could 
not  be  understood,  from  the  feebleness  of  his  utterance. 
These,  his  last  words,  expressed  his  humble  but  un- 
wavering trust;  "the  old  foundation,"  the  tried  cor- 
ner-stone— his  resting-place  for  many  a  year,  did  not 
fail  him  now. 

Soon  after,  the  dull,  heavy  slumber  attendant  on  ty- 
phoid fever  came  on,  and,  for  the  first  time,  all  hope 
faded  away  from  the  watchers  by  that  bedside. 


460  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  August,  his 
friends  were  summoned.  Not  a  word  nor  tone  broke 
the  solemn  silence — not  a  struggle  nor  a  groan,  but  the 
breathing  became  fainter ;  and  as  the  town  clock  was 
striking  six,  in  the  peaceful  stillness  of  a  summer  morn- 
ing, the  spirit  passed  from  its  earthly  tenement,  "  Bish- 
op Janes  closing  the  eyes  and  sealing  the  lips,  upon 
whose  eloquent  tones  so  many  have  hung  breathless." 

An  expression  of  deep  tranquillity,  of  perfect  peace, 
rested  on  his  massive  features  in  their  marble  repose. 
He  looked  like  a  Christian  warrior  taking  his  rest  after 
the  conflicts  of  life. 

A  number  of  his  brethren  and  friends  came  from  a 
distance  to  follow  his  remains  to  the  grave.  On  Mon- 
day, the  18th,  they  were  carried  to  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  placed  in  front  of  the  altar  where  he  had 
so  often  broken  the  sacramental  bread,  and  from  the 
pulpit,  hung  with  black,  where  he  had  discoursed  of 
immortality  and  eternal  life,  Bishop  Janes  recalled 
those  memories  of  him,  which  will  be  fragrant  while 
he  sleeps  in  dust.  The  hymns  sung  at  these  funeral 
services  were  the  1086th  of  the  Methodist  Collection  : 
"  Servant  of  God,  well  done  ! 

Thy  glorious  warfare's  past ; 
The  battle's  fought,  the  race  is  won, 
And  thou  art  crowned  at  last !" 

and  the  1083d  hymn,  selected  by  the  bishop  as  pecul- 
iarly descriptive  of  his  varied  life,  his  calm  and  peace- 
ful death : 

"  How  blest  the  righteous  when  he  dies  ! 

When  sinks  a  weary  soul  to  rest ! 
How  mildly  beam  the  closing  eyes  ! 
How  gently  heaves  the  expiring  breast ! 


CLOSING     SCENES.  461 

"  A  holy  quiet  reigns  around — 

A  calm  which  life  nor  death  destroys  ; 
And  naught  disturbs  that  peace  profound 
"Which  his  unfettered  soul  enjoys. 

"  Farewell,  conflicting  hopes  and  fears, 

Where  lights  and  shades  alternate  dwell, 
How  bright  the  unchanging  morn  appears  ! 
Farewell,  inconstant  world,  farewell ! 

"  Life's  labor  done,  as  sinks  the  clay, 
Light  from  its  load  the  spirit  flies  ; 
While  heaven  and  earth  combine  to  say, 
How  blest  the  righteous  when  he  dies  !" 

In  the  peaceful  calm  of  a  beautiful  summer  after- 
noon his  body  was  borne  to  its  last  resting-place  in  the 
college  burying-ground.  His  grave  was  beside  that  of 
his  infant  son,  and  near  the  tomb  of  his  friend  and  pre- 
decessor, Dr.  Fisk,  and  there  was  his  body  committed 
to  the  ground  in  sure  and  certain  hope  of  resurrection 
unto  eternal  life.* 

*  "  There  lies  buried  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  the  present  gen- 
eration. The  brilliancy  of  his  genius  was  in  keeping  with  the  virtues 
of  a  noble  heart,  and  transcendant  mental  endowments  were  associa- 
ted with  spotless  purity  of  private  character.  Pre-eminent  talents 
were  consecrated  to  the  glory  of  Christ,  and  given  without  stint  to 
the  cause  of  public  usefulness.  No  '  pale  gradations'  of  approaching 
twilight  gave  warning  of  the  setting  sun.  In  the  fullness  of  mid-clay 
beam  and  meridian  fame  that  bright  orb  has  been  suddenly  quenched. 
A  bereft  family,  an  orphaned  university,  a  smitten  Church,  mourn  the 
magnitude  of  a  loss  which  can  never  be  repaired.  Let  us  bow  to  the 
Divine  dispensations,  adoring  where  we  can  not  comprehend ;  and, 
gathering  up  the  recollections  of  departed  excellence,  attributing  to 
the  right  source — the  grace  of  God — whatever  was  good,  or  great,  or 
useful  in  his  character  and  life,  let  us,  in  our  humbler  sphere.s  of  duty, 
follow  him  as  he  followed  Christ,  till  we  come  at  length  to  the  spir- 
its of  just  men  made  perfect,  to  the  joyous  'general  assembly'  before 
the  throne." — W.  M.  Wightman. 


462  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

REMINISCENCES  OF  STUDENTS. 

"  WE  do  not  hesitate,"  says  Dr.  Wightman,  "  to  express  our 
conviction  that,  with  the  pre-eminent  qualifications  he  pos- 
sessed for  influencing  young  men,  for  wielding  aright  the  po- 
tent instrumentalities  belonging  to  the  professor's  chair,  aid- 
ed by  the  power  which  gave  his  sermons  a  baptism  of  fire, 
when  occasionally  he  was  able  to  preach,  Dr.  Olin  did  more 
for  the  Church  than  if  he  had  even  worn  the  mitre.  "We 
never  knew  a  professor  or  president  half  so  idolized  by  his 
students,  one  half  so  fitted  to  impress  the  great  lineaments 
of  his  own  character  on  the  susceptible  minds  of  young  men, 
or  so  qualified  to  bring  the  vital  spirit  of  religion  into  all  the 
agencies  and  appliances  of  education.  His  work  was  mark- 
ed out  by  Providence ;  he  was  sustained  in  it  until  the  mis- 
sion of  his  life  closed.  Posterity  will  regard  him  as  a  great 
leader  in  the  educational  enterprises  of  the  religious  body 
with  which  he  identified  himself,  when  there  were  scarcely 
half  a  dozen  regularly  educated  men  in  the  ministry,  and  no 
institution  of  learning  of  high  grade  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
connection." 

A  meet  introduction  are  these  words  to  this  chapter, 
which  aims  to  present  Dr.  Olin's  character  as  it  was 
stamped  upon  the  minds  and  memories  of  young  men 
for  whose  well-being  he  ever  felt  a  lively  and  unfailing 
solicitude.  He  may  be  thus  seen  from  a  new  stand- 
point, and  probably  the  most  favorable  position  for 
obtaining  a  proper  estimate  of  his  qualifications  as  a 
guide  and  governor  of  youth.  "  At  every  thought  of 


REMINISCENCES    OF    STUDENTS.  463 

him,"  says  one,  "  I  thank  (rod  more  fervently  for  the 
human  soul  and  for  immortality."  Says  another : 

"  He  was  a  father  among  us,  and  equally  did  lie  command 
respect,  inspire  awe,  and  win  affection.  How  well  could  he 
encourage  the  ambition  and  enthusiasm  of  youth  without  ap- 
proving its  follies  and  indiscretions.  The  sincere  and  gener- 
ous manner  in  which  he  bestowed  praise,  and  the  faithfulness 
with  which  he  administered  cogent,  scorching  admonition, 
both  publicly  and  privately,  were  matters  of  universal  re- 
mark. Of  his  piety  I  ought  perhaps  to  say  nothing ;  but 
an  incident  occurs  to  my  mind  worthy,  I  think,  of  mention, 
giving  as  it  does  a  brief  but  instructive  glimpse  of  this  man 
of  prayer.  It  was  told  me  by  one  of  the  students  who  were 
accustomed  to  attend  the  class-meetings  held  at  the  presi- 
dent's house.  During  these  seasons  of  halknved  interest,  not 
soon  to  be  forgotten,  he  has  been  heard  praying  with  fervent 
though  subdued  voice  in  his  study,  imploring,  no  doubt,  the 
blessings  of  Heaven  upon  the  class,  and  upon  the  institution 

which  enlisted  so  much  of  his  labor  and  his  love 

His  discourses  gave  me  a  neio  idea  of  the  power  of  eloquence 
and  the  mission  of  the  orator.  My  attention  was  once  di- 
rected to  some  stanzas  from  Mrs.  Browning's  Vision  of  Poets, 
as  giving  a  striking  likeness  of  the  doctor  preaching,  especial- 
ly when  much  animated  : 

"  His  eyes  were  dreadful,  for  you  saw 
That  they  saw  God — his  lips  and  jaw 
Grand-made  and  strong  as  Sinai's  law. 

"  They  could  enunciate,  and  refrain 
From  vibratory  after-pain, 
And  his  brow's  height  was  sovereign." 

A  young  minister  of  the  New  York  Conference, 
while  still  a  student  in  the  New  York  University,  spent 
a  summer  in  Middletown  for  the  benefit  of  his  health, 
and  occasionally  saw  Dr.  Olin  in  his  own  house.  In 


464  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

speaking  of  his  posthumous  works,  he  alludes  to  the 
personal  and  unconscious  influence  which  Dr.  Olin  had 
exerted  over  him : 

"  To  the  Church  at  large  these  volumes  are,  to  an  extent 
beyond  any  similar  publications  from  our  ranks,  an  honor  to 
her  literature,  and  a  positive  addition  to  her  treasury  of  broad, 
practical  views  and  lofty  impulses.  Indeed,  the  two  last 
words  seem  to  me  to  imply  that  more  especial  mission  which 
it  was  his  to  accomplish,  and  which  these  sermons  and  lec- 
tures will  still  sustain.  Others  in  large  measure  furnish  in- 
struction, and  arrange  the  government  of  the  Church  ;  but 
such  an  impulse  of  Christian  heroism  and  magnanimity,  such 
a  realizing  sense  of  the  high  vocation  to  which  we  are  called, 
comes  to  me  from  no  other  source.  God  sent  him  to  be  what 
he  was  and  is,  a  power  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Church. 
.  Beyond  the  general  benefits,  which  I  shared  with 
BO  many,  I  can  not  forget  that  my  own  slight  intercourse  with 
Dr.  Olin,  and  especially  in  one  interview,  had  the  most  im- 
portant bearing  on  my  position  and  sphere  of  ministerial 
labor." 

The  following  tribute,  "  from  a  member*  of  one  of  the 
last  classes  graduated  under  him — one,  too,  who  is  un- 
speakably indebted  to  Olin  for  whatever  of  energy,  prin- 
ciple, and  manly  aspiration  may  enter  as  forming  ele- 
ments into  his  character" — proves  his  ability  to  "im- 
press the  lineaments  of  his  own  character  on  the  sus- 
ceptible minds  of  young  men." 

"  All  that  I  shall  say  will  find  echoes  in  the  hearts  of 
many  over  whom  Dr.  Olin's  influence  is  most  commanding. 
You  may  understand  my  feelings  toward  the  man  when  I 
tell  you  that  if  I  ever  attain  heaven,  it  will  doubtless  be 
owing,  in  a  good  degree,  to  the  fact  that  I  was  permitted,  at 
*  Mr.  N.  J.  Burton,  the  valedictorian  of  the  class  of  1850. 


REMINISCENCES    OF     STUDENTS.  465 

a  critical  period  in  my  history,  to  look  upon  the  Christian  re- 
ligion as  working  out  its  benignant  mission  in  his  soul  ;  sweet- 
ening, strengthening,  and  elevating  his  sympathies  ;  entering 
and  pouring  a  restless,  beneficent  life  into  his  large,  catholic 
mind  ;  robing  in  a  divine  beauty  the  mighty  proportions  of 
his  character,  and  in  his  public  efforts  imparting  to  his  ar- 
dent intellect  a  light,  a  dignity,  a  grandeur  of  action,  which 
made  his  performances  like  the  sun's  march  across  the  firma- 
ment, strong,  luminous,  and  resistless.  He  was  eminently 
fitted,  both  by  nature  and  discipline,  for  guiding  young  men. 
His  generous  judgments  of  their  motives,  when  smaller  souls 
would  have  been  stirred  with  suspicions — his  lively  and  ten- 
der appreciation  of  the  difficulties  and  discouragements  which 
environ  and  depress  the  student — his  unfailing  urbanity — his 
thorough  manliness — his  wide  and  glowing  apprehension  of 
all  that  goes  to  make  up  true  nobleness,  and  the  contagious 
enthusiasm  with  which,  at  fitting  times,  he  set  before  those 
committed  to  his  charge  his  grand  ideal  of  a  manly  charac- 
ter— all  these  qualities  established  for  him  an  undisputed  do- 
minion over  the  finest,  noblest  feeling  of  the  youthful  stu- 
dent. And  now  that  the  clods  of  the  cemetery  are  upon  him, 
it  is  grateful  to  me  to  bear  testimony  to  his  princely  endow- 
ments of  mind  and  heart.  I  call  to  mind  the  solemn  prayers 
which  he  used  to  offer  for  us  when,  the  day's  work  done,  we 
were  gathered  in  the  college  chapel.  After  a  day  of  mental 
toil  on  the  minute  points  of  scholastic  culture,  an  introduction, 
in  those  evening  exercises,  to  his  broad  visions  of  moral  truth, 
wrought  in  us  such  experience  as  is  born  in  the  heart  of  the 
traveler  who  has  made  a  weary  march  along  shadowed, 
craggy  ravines,  and  perplexing  forest  paths,  and  at  last,  as 
the  sun  descends,  emerges  to  the  mountain  top,  from  which 
he  may  scan  interminable  landscapes.  The  unmistakable 
earnestness,  the  mighty  arguments,  the  amazing  breadth  of 
conception,  the  freshness,  originality,  and  vigor  of  expression, 
the  fullness  of  human  sympathy,  and  the  thorough  conscious* 
U2 


466  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

ness  of  the  fearful  verities  of  eternity  which  characterized 
those  evening  devotions,  will  live  in  memory  forever.  It  is 
a  rare  blessing  to  be  near  and  feel  about  and  within  you  the 
breath  of  a  mind  so  kingly,  of  a  heart  so  rich  and  deep.  Ill 
health  prevented  Dr.  Olin  from  laboring  in  the  recitation- 
room,  but  his  presence  was  a  conscious  culture,  and  the  few 
things  which  he  was  permitted  to  say  to  us  will  make  him 
eternally  influential  in  many  souls.  But  he  is  asleep  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  university  over  which  he  presided.  And  now 
these  words  I  cast  as  a  wreath  upon  his  grave  :  God  stamped 
manhood  on  him  from  his  birth,  and  religion  put  upon  his 
greatness  so  much  of  beauty  as  shall  make  him  memorable 
for  generations." 

"When  in  his  presence,"  writes  Professor  Lippitt,  "  we  felt 
that  we  were  in  the  presence  of  a  father.  Students,  when 
called  before  him,  were  usually  compelled,  by  his  frankness 
and  manifested  confidence  in  them,  never  to  dissemble.  Few 
could  go  before  him  and  meet  the  gaze  of  that  eye,  which 
seemed  to  read  the  very  soul,  and  do  aught  but  confess  the 
truth.  And  I  have  often  thought  that  it  would  be  punish- 
ment enough  for  any  one  who  could  be  thus  guilty  to  feel  that 
he  had  deceived  one  who  was  so  open,  confiding,  and  unsus- 
picious. His  constant  theme  to  the  students  was  the  culti- 
vation of  high  and  holy  moral  principles.  In  the  chapel,  how 
often  have  we  listened  to  the  rich  treasures  of  thought  and 
illustration  that  he  brought  from  the  store-house  of  his  mind, 
to  urge  upon  us  the  necessity  of  living  up  to  some  exalted, 
moral  standard  !  His  language  to  us  was  ever  to  choose  the 
right,  the  good,  and  the  true,  and  adhere  to  them  whatev- 
er it  might  cost.  Was  any  act  committed  by  the  students 
which  called  for  censure,  with  what  pained  feelings  he  re- 
ferred to  it,  and  then,  making  the  act  the  embodiment  of 
some  principle,  he  would  portray  the  evil  tendencies  of  that 
principle  with  a  power  and  earnestness  that  carried  convic- 
tion to  every  serious  mind.  His  government  over  us  was 


REMINISCENCES    OF     STUDENTS.  467 

mild  and  gentle,  yet  stern  and  decisive.  He  did  not  scold  or 
threaten,  but  he  acted  promptly,  energetically,  without  fear 
or  favor,  when  duty  called.  If  a  student  had  committed 
some  flagrant  act,  a  public  acknowledgment  must  be  made, 
or  he  must  leave.  I  remember  an  instance  which  will  illus- 
trate the  point. 

"  Our  class  had  desired  a  holiday  one  afternoon  for  some 
purpose  which  we  deemed  sufficient,  and  therefore  applied  to 
the  professor,  who  was  to  hear  our  class  that  afternoon,  to  ex- 
cuse us  from  our  recitation.  This  he  refused  to  do.  The 
class  thereupon  took  the  half  day  nolens  volens,  omitting  the 
recitation,  and  spending  it  as  we  desired.  The  class  were 
reasoned  with  by  the  professor,  and  urged  to  make  some  ac- 
knowledgment. This  they  declined  doing.  The  next  night, 
after  prayers,  the  doctor  requested  us  to  stop.  He  called  us 
forward  before  him,  and  then  gave  us  a  mild  but  earnest  lec- 
ture upon  the  nature  of  law  and  the  duty  of  obedience.  He 
then  mentioned  the  unpleasant  circumstances  in  which  we 
were  placed  toward  our  teachers,  and  said  that  he  had  writ- 
ten a  paper  which  he  thought  would  settle  the  matter,  and 
which  would  be  satisfactory  to  all  concerned.  We  thought, 
by  the  mild  manner  toward  us,  that  he  was  about  to  propose 
a  compromise,  which  we  deemed  a  victory,  or,  at  least,  that 
he  was  in  a  manner  to  condemn  us,  though  in  reality  to  con- 
demn the  professor.  Never  were  students  more  deceived. 
The  paper  contained  a  full,  frank,  and  humble  acknowledg- 
ment of  our  error,  and  an  expression  of  our  sorrow,  and  a 
pledge  of  future  obedience.  After  having  read  it,  he  remark- 
ed, that  he  presumed  that  we  all  would  sign  it  without  hesi- 
tation, adding,  ominously,  that  those  who  did  not  would  pack 
their  trunks  and  leave  the  college  premises  in  the  morning. 
I  need  not  say  that  the  paper  was  signed  with  no  hesitancy 
on  our  parts,  and  ever  after  we  felt  that  it  was  not  safe  to 
trifle  with  college  laws. 

"  His  whole  soul  was  given  to  the  interests  of  the  univers- 
ity, and  he  often  mourned  his  inability  to  be  actively  engaged 


468  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

among  the  students.  But  when  among  them,  they  all  felt 
that  he  was  their  friend — one  who  had  a  great  interest  in 
their  welfare.  He  took  pleasure  in  inquiring  into  their  plans 
for  life,  and  often  added  his  advice  and  counsel.  So  great 
was  this  confidence  in  this  solicitude  for  them,  that  they  oft- 
en sought  aid  from  him  in  the  choice  of  pursuits,  or  in  mark- 
ing out  a  course  of  reading.  He  ever  sought  to  impress  upon 
our  minds  the  grandeur  of  Christianity,  and  to  enforce  upon 
us  the  obligation  of  meeting  all  its  requirements.  Especially 
did  he  seek  to  instill  into  our  hearts  a  zeal  for  the  missionary 
enterprise,  and  a  heart-felt  interest  for  the  conversion  of  the 
world.  Hence  we  see  Williams,  who  graduated  in  1844, 
leaving  for  the  shores  of  Africa,  soon  to  sleep  beneath  its 
burning  sands ;  and  White,  who  in  China  to-day  is  preach- 
ing the  truths  of  the  Gospel  to  them  that  sit  in  darkness  ;* 
and  others,  I  doubt  not,  under  his  instructions,  first  awak- 
ened to  a  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  the  heathen.  Many  others 
shall  go  forth  to  the  missionary  field.  To  beget  such  high 
Christian  daring  and  self-sacrifice  for  the  cross  is  surely  not 
to  live  in  vain. 

"  Those  who  have  read  his  baccalaureate  addresses  will 
have  perceived  how  deeply  he  felt  for  the  future  well-being  • 
of  the  students,  and  how  earnestly  he  strove  to  kindle  in. 
them  the  most  ardent  longings  for  a  life  of  true  and  exalted 
greatness.  A  great  man,  he  used  to  remark,  was  not  he  who 
read  the  most,  but  he  who  thought  the  most.  He  was  great 
who  revolved  great  thoughts  in  his  mind,  and  made  great  and 
pure  principles  his  rule  of  action.  Hence  he  urged  us  to  seek 
for  the  first  principles  of  things,  and  to  struggle  for  the  mas- 
tery of  wide,  comprehending,  and  far-reaching  causes.  To 
incite  to  deep  and  earnest  thought  is  a  higher  aim  than  mere- 
ly to  impart  the  graces  of  an  education. 

*  Dr.  Olin  strongly  urged  the  establishment  of  a  mission  to  China, 
and  was  one  of  a  number  of  persons  who  contributed  $100  a  year  for 
its  support.  He  gave  about  a  tenth  of  his  income  to  benevolent  ob- 
jects. -  -  ,  -  - ; 


REMINISCENCES     OF     STUDENTS.  469 

„"  He  remarked  to  our  class  once  concerning  his  method  of 
study  when  in  college  :  '  In  the  study  of  mental  and  moral 
sciences,'  he  said, '  he  was  accustomed  to  write  an  analysis  of 
each  lesson,  and  commit  it  to  memory,  and  then  to  read  the 
text  in  connection  with  each  division,  and  then,  repeating  his 
analysis,  repeat  also  to  himself  all  the  thoughts  embraced 
under  each  division  as  he  recollected  them.'  Thus  he  pre- 
pared himself  for  the  recitation-room.  He  assured  us  that 
this  method  had  given  him,  in  a  great  measure,  his  precision 
of  language,  as  well  as  his  power  over  it. 

"  He  took  a  peculiar  interest  in  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the 
students,  especially  of  those  preparing  for  the  ministry. 

"  How  many  now  on  fields  of  lahor  in  our  various  Confer- 
ences look  back  to  his  influence  and  advice  that  decided  them 
to  toil  for  perishing  souls  !  After  they  left  the  institution,  his 
interest  in  them  did  not  cease,  but  often  his  eye  followed  them 
— often  his  pen  counseled  them,  urging  them  to  the  perform- 
ance of  their  high  duties  with  holy  zeal  and  unwearied  study 
and  preparation.  God  wants  no  idlers  in  his  vineyard.  He 
used  to  remark  that  the  highest  intellectual  power,  sanctified 
by  the  grace  of  God,  is  the  most  powerful  engine  for  good 
in  the  world ;  that  we  should  seek  for  the  highest  intellect- 
ual culture  and  the  most  comprehending  knowledge,  that 
we  may  lay  it  upon  the  altar  of  God,  and  go  forth  in  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  to  conquer  the  world ;  that  an  archangel's 
intellectual  power,  could  man  possess  it,  dedicated  to  the 
service  of  God,  would  be  the  most  exalted  offering  we  could 
bring ;  that  learning  is  not  an  evil,  but  only  unsanctified 
learning. 

The  following  letter  is  from  Mr.  R.  0.  Kellogg,  a  gen- 
tleman connected  with  Lawrence  University,  in  the  Far 
West.  He  was  a  student  from  Wisconsin,  whose  col- 
lege life  fell  between  the  years  1846  and  1849. 

"  For  some  time  after  my  admission  Dr.  Olin  was  absent 


470  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

upon  a  European  tour,  and  the  first  distinct  impressions  re- 
specting him  are  those  received  as  I  joined,  by  sympathy,  in 
the  general  rejoicing  on  his  safe  return  to  Middletown. 

"  On  seeing  him,  esteem  and  reverence  were  at  once  the 
emotions  with  which  I  began  to  regard  him,  and  these  emo- 
tions have  but  strengthened  to  the  present  moment.  I 
never  went  to  his  room,  even  upon  a  trifling  college  errand, 
without  feeling  that  I  had  been  in  the  presence  of  a  great 
and  good  man.  At  such  times  his  manner,  though  not  for- 
mal and  distant,  was  likely  to  produce  in  all  a  proper  and 
high  respect  for  his  position  as  president.  I  think  that  none 
of  any  sensibility  could  easily  bring  themselves  to  trifle  in  his 
presence,  even  about  those  minor  delinquencies  which  stu- 
dents generally  think  of  small  account,  and  very  venial.  His 
estimation  of  what  most  consider  trifles  in  morals  and  in  man- 
ners, used  to  be  the  subject  of  frequent  remark  among  the 
students.  He  seemed  to  look  upon  the  principle,  not  the  act, 
and  to  regard  with  almost  the  same  abhorrence  and  condem- 
nation the  wanton  breaking  of  a  pane  of  glass  and  the  willful 
burning  of  a  building.  Triflers  could  not  sympathize  with 
such  feelings,  and  were  sometimes  led  to  say  that  undue 
prominence  was  given  to  what  they  deemed  slight  offenses  ; 
but  it  always  seemed  to  me  to  show  in  him  a  most  exalted 
view  and  theory  of  right,  an  unusually  perfect  beau  ideal  of 
propriety  and  honor.  I  know  not  how  others  felt,  but,  as  was 
remarked  of  Dr.  Arnold  by  one  of  his  pupils,  it  seemed  to  me 
a  shame  that  any  one  should  tell  to  him,  so  unsuspicious  and 
trustful,  any  thing  but  the  plain,  straightforward  truth.  Pre- 
varication and  falsehood  stood  side  by  side,  too  base  to  be  en- 
tertained in  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  "We  used  sometimes  to  think  that  he  was  inclined  to  flat- 
ter us  into  duty  and  efibrt,  and  compliment  us  a  little  more 
highly  than  he  really  meant,  but  I  do  not  think  so  now.  I 
believe  it  arose  from  the  generosity  of  his  nature.  The  same 
catholicity  of  spirit  which  characterized  his  religion  was  per- 


REMINISCENCES    OP    STUDENTS.  471 

ceptible  in  his  estimate  of  character  and  intellect.  He  never 
loved  or  was  inclined  to  depreciate  any  one's  efforts.  He 
loved  to  exalt  man,  and  to  look  upon  him  as  a  being  richly 
endowed,  and  called  to  a  most  high  and  holy  calling,  and,  as 
a  consequence,  he  was  not  disposed  to  underrate  or  discourage 
individuals.  This  trait  of  character,  this  appreciation  of 
thoughts  and  efforts  so  far  below  his  own,  will,  I  think,  be 
remembered  by  all  for  whom  he  ever  corrected  a  chapel-piece. 
As  he  drew  a  chair  close  beside  his  own,  and,  to  them  look- 
ing over,  re-read  the  piece,  and  delicately  and  kindly  gave 
the  reasons  for  the  corrections  he  had  made,  deferring  much 
to  their  judgment,  and  consulting  their  taste  in  each,  they 
must  have  felt,  if  not  a  little  self-elation  at  success  with 
which  he  found  so  little  fault,  at  least  that  he  was  disposed 
to  give  them  all  the  credit  they  deserved. 

"  As  is  usual,  until  my  senior  year  I  had  scarcely  met  him 
elsewhere  than  at  his  room  in  college,  and,  when  invited  to 
his  house,  though  partly  prepared  for  it  by  the  remarks  of 
others,  I  was  quite  surprised  to  find  him  making  all  so  wholly 
at  ease,  and  to  see  him  enter  so  heartily  and  pleasantly  into 
conversation  with  all,  the  humble  as  well  as  the  high.  I 
remember  with  great  pleasure  two  or  three  evening  visits, 
which  he  made  specially  agreeable.  In  one  of  these  he  re- 
lated to  a  friend  and  myself  some  incidents  of  his  college  life, 
and  the  history  of  one  of  his  fellow-students,  I  think  it  was, 
who,  young  himself,  got  married  hastily  to  an  aged  spinster, 
and  repented  at  leisure.  He  narrated  the  circumstances  with 
great  humor,  laughing  heartily  himself,  and  causing  us  to 
laugh  most  heartily.  The  poor  fellow  was  taken  sick,  and 
somehow  it  fell  to  his  lot  to  be  taken  care  of  chiefly  by  said 
spinster,  and  she  so  overcame  him  in  his  weakness,  so  baited 
his  affections  with  toast  and  broth,  and  won  upon  him  by 
kind  attentions  and  gentle  strokings,  that  she  caught  him, 
and  he  had,  of  course,  to  give  up  college  and  college  fancies, 
and  betake  himself  at  once  to  the  prose,  the  bread-and-din- 
ner  side  of  life. 


472  LIFE     AND    LETTERS. 

"  But  others,  more  intimately  acquainted  and  better  able, 
will  doubtless  furnish  illustrations  of  Dr.  Olin's  social  char- 
acter, his  genial  humor,  and  kind  familiarity.  Of  the  im- 
pression made  upon  me  by  his  intellect  I  may  perhaps  speak 
more  definitely.  In  his  sermons,  and  even  in  his  prayers  in 
chapel,  I  always  looked  upon  him  with  a  species  of  wonder, 
with  a  feeling  akin  to  that  felt  while  gazing  upon  Niagara. 
His  lofty  thoughts,  his  comprehensive,  ennobling  views,  his 
deep  earnestness,  and  his  power  to  do  with  language  what 
he  willed,  impressed  me  with  a  feeling  of  the  sublime.  I 
saw,  with  a  sort  of  astonishment,  the  ease  with  which  he 
used  long,  massive  words,  and  wove  them  into  graceful  speech  ; 
and  recently,  reading  an  account  of  Wickersham's  machinery, 
which  weaves,  \vith  all  the  apparent  ease  of  a  common  loom, 
huge  iron  rods  into  beautiful  gates  and  various  articles  of 
utility  and  ornament,  I  thought  it  a  fit  illustration  of  the 
way  in  which  Dr.  Olin's  giant  mind  twined  the  most  mas- 
sive words  into  smooth,  even,  beautiful  speech.  Words 
seemed  to  take  for  him,  whether  speaking  extemporaneously 
upon  some  unimportant  matter  in  the  chapel  or  more  elabo- 
rately in  the  pulpit,  precisely  the  form  he  wished,  to  twine  to 
fit  the  though/ ;  or,  using  a  different,  and  perhaps  more  del- 
icate figure,  they  seemed  to  be  chameleon-like,  and  take  pre- 
cisely the  color  of  his  thoughts.  This,  as  mental  states  and 
spiritual  wants  are  never  twice  exactly  alike,  gave  to  his 
daily  prayers  a  freshness  and  sincerity  that  are  wanting  in 
petitions  full  of  habitual  expressions  and  threadbare  phrases. 

"  If  the  strength  and  accuracy  of  expression  excited  admi- 
ration, the  thoughts  much  more.  Such  clear  analysis,  wide 
generalization,  and  truthful  delineation  of  mental  processes 
and  moral  states,  could  but  produce  effect,  and  beget  in  those 
that  heard  desire  for  similar  clearness  and  scope  of  thought. 
Although  he  seemed  to  tower  in  intellectual  stature  above 
common  men  as  much  as  he  did  in  physical,  there  was  noth- 
ing in  his  character  to  discourage  emulation. 


REMINISCENCES     OF     STUDENTS.  473 

"  He  dwelt  so  frequently  upon  the  necessity  of  labor  for 
success — patient,  persevering  labor — and  the  certainty  of  fail- 
ure in  reaching  any  thing  truly  great,  even  in  this  world, 
without  it,  and  high  moral  motive  in  it,  that  none,  by  his 
example,  were  led  to  sigh  despondingly  for  genius,  but  rather 
stimulated  to  exercise  and  develop  to  the  utmost  the  powers 
which  God  had  given  them. 

"  The  most  vivid  recollection  that  I  have  of  Dr.  Olin  is  the 
recollection  of  him  as  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  delivering  to  our 
class  his  last  baccalaureate  sermon.  It  is  the  mental  da- 
guerreotype of  him  there  that  I  look  upon  most  frequently.  I 
see  him  there  tremulous  with  emotion  ;  now  with  both  hands 
pressing  upon  his  heaving  chest  as  if  to  keep  it  from  burst- 
ing ;  now  with  eyes  and  hand  uplifted  in  prayerful  appeal  to 
Heaven ;  now  bending  over  the  desk  toward  us,  urging  us 
with  tearful  earnestness  to  be  men,  high-minded,  Christian 
men,  above  paltry,  ambitious,  and  time-serving  expedients — 
to  live  for  God,  and  always,  persistently,  and  hopefully  to  do 
right.  Especially  to  those  who  were  to  be  teachers  did  he 
give  a  most  impressive,  earnest  charge.  Never  shall  I  for- 
get how  he  exalted  the  teacher's  calling,  how  he  warned  us 
not  to  warp  and  mar  immortal  souls.  Till  then,  I  had  thought 
to  seek  some  employment  more  honored  and  lucrative,  and 
to  teach  but  a  short  time,  as  an  unpleasant  necessity ;  but 
since,  I  have  come  to  feel  that  the  sphere  of  a  faithful  teach- 
er is  as  high  as  almost  any  need  to  seek.  The  faithful  preach- 
er's alone  is  higher,  and  even  he  can  scarcely  wield,  for  good 
or  evil,  a  more  potent  influence." 

This  chapter  finds  a  significant  conclusion  in  the 
language  of  the  Valedictory  of  1851,  in  words  written 
for,  but  destined  never  to  fall  upon  his  ear.  .  These  ut- 
terances, modified  in  their  expression  as  spoken  of  an 
absent  president,  breathed  the  farewell  of  the  class  to 
him  whose  earthly  relations  with  them  had  forever 
closed  : 


474  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

"  We  mark,  sir,  the  day  of  our  first  meeting  with  you  as 
one  of  the  brightest  periods  in  our  history.  From  that  time 
until  now  you  have  manifested,  in  a  way  quite  peculiar  to 
yourself,  the  most  whole-souled  interest  in  every  thing  per- 
taining to  our  good.  In  words  of  approval  and  admonition, 
when  you  seemed  least  to  know  it,  you  have  given  utterance 
to  thoughts  characterized  by  an  internal  expansive  principle, 
which  we  must,  whether  we  would  or  not,  hold  in  time-last- 
ing remembrance. 

"  You  have  discovered  to  us  a  deeper  meaning  in  the  dec- 
laration that  '  man  was  created  in  the  image  of  his  God,' 
have  made  us  feel  that  life  here  and  life  hereafter  were  join- 
ed in  one  great  ritual ;  and,  as  for  duty  and  eternity,  you 
have  actually  burdened  the  words  with  meaning. 

"  Permit  me  further  to  say,  that  although  we  ardently  wish 
for  your  entire  restoration,  we  are  taught  a  most  invaluable 
lesson  by  your  physical  weakness.  You  know  full  well  the 
tendency  of  those  who  are  just  entering  into  active  life  to 
magnify  the  importance  of  human  efforts.  But  ive,  convinced 
that  there  is  room  enough  for  human  virtue  and  folly — for 
the  devotion  of  the  hero,  and  the  selfishness  of  the  coward  in 
the  broad  outlines  of  the  destiny  appointed  to  the  world — are 
yet  made  deeply — 0  how  deeply  ! — sensible  at  the  outset, 
that,  after  all,  the  mightiest  human  instruments  may  be  dis- 
pensed with.  It  is  a  harsh  philosophy  that  would  close  the 
flood-gates  of  feeling  now,  as  we  go  out  forever  from  your 
manly  guidance.  Be  assured  we  shall  ever  entertain  for  you 
sentiments  of  profoundest  regard — I  would  say  of  affection, 
but  the  word  has  been  perverted  in  its  use.  It  is  really  an 
affection  strong  and  genial,  which  you  have  not  given  us— - 
into  which  we  have  not  argued  ourselves,  but  which  we 
have  been  imbibing  imperceptibly,  incessantly  for  years,  un- 
til it  is  now  incorporated  into  our  very  being — not  as  a  sub- 
stance, but  as  an  everlasting  relation.  Farewell ! 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF     DR.   OLIN.  475 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  DR.  OLIN,  BY  THE  REV.  ABEL  STEVENS.* 

STEPHEN  OLIN  stands  forth  with  commanding  promi- 
nence and  an  imperial  mien  among  the  princes  of  our  Israel. 
He  was  a  shining  light — a  full  orb  ;  if  not  the  most  notable, 
yet  the  most  intrinsically  great  man,  take  him  "  all  in  all," 
that  American  Methodism  has  produced.  So  manifest  and 
commanding  were  his  traits,  that  this  pre-eminence  can  be 
awarded  him  without  the  slightest  invidiousness. 

His  character,  moral,  social,  and  intellectual,  was  through- 
out of  the  noblest  style.  In  the  first  respect  he  was  pre-em- 
inent for  the  two  chief  virtues  of  true  religion,  charity,  and 
humility.  In  respect  to  the  former  he  had,  with  theological 
orthodoxy,  a  practical  liberalism,  which,  we  fear,  most  ortho- 
dox polemics  would  pronounce  dangerous.  There  was  not  an 
atom  of  bigotry  in  all  the  vast  soul  of  this  rare  man.  Mean- 
while, it  could  be  said  of  him,  as  Rowland  Hill  said  of  Chal- 
mers, that  "  the  most  astonishing  thing  about  him  was  his 
humility."  He  was,  we  think,  the  best  example  we  ever 
knew  of  that  child-like  simplicity  which  Christ  enjoined  as 
essential  to  those  who  would  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heav- 
en, and  Bacon  declared  to  be  equally  necessary  to  "  those 
who  would  enter  the  kingdom  of  knowledge." 
'  His  social  character  was  as  beautiful  as  his  intellectual 
was  great.  If  it  could  not  be  in  the  nature  of  such  a  man 
to  indulge  the  persiflage,  the  sheer  inanities  which  inferior 
minds  may  deem  the  appropriate  relaxation  of  social  conver- 
sation, yet  was  he  ever  ready,  for  not  merely  the  cheerful  re- 

*  Originally  published  in  the  Methodist  Quarterly  Review  for  July, 
1852. 


476  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

mark,  but  the  exhilarating  pleasantry.  His  familiar  friends 
will  never  forget  this  charming  trait  of  his  social  character. 
Nor  were  these  buoyant  intervals  rare  or  brief.  Often, 
through  a  prolonged,  but  always  fitting  conversation,  would 
this  play  of  sunshine  illuminate  his  presence,  and  with  it 
would  intermix  congruously,  often  most  felicitously,  the  ra- 
diant play  of  thought  or  the  happy  expression  of  Christian 
sensibility.  A  truer  and  more  forbearing  friend  could  not  be 
found.  His  domestic  affections  were  warm,  and  the  circle  of 
his  family  was  a  sanctuary  full  of  hallowed  sympathies  and 
enjoyments. 

It  would  require  a  more  capable  hand  than  ours  to  esti- 
mate the  intellectual  dimensions  of  such  a  man.  His  schol- 
arship was,  we  think,  more  exact  and  thorough  within  his 
professional  sphere  than  varied  or  comprehensive  beyond  that 
limit.  We  speak  now  of  scholars!^,  as  distinguished  from 
general  information.  He  was  conservative  in  his  views  of 
classical  education,  and  very  decidedly  opposed  to  the  "mod- 
ernized" system  of  training  attempted  and  abandoned  at 
Harvard,  and  now  experimenting  at  Brown  University.  A 
high  and  finished  classical  discipline  was  his  ideal  for  our 
own  college,  and  that  institution  has  sent  out,  under  his  su- 
perintendence, as  thorough  students  as  have  honored  the  ed- 
ucation of  the  land. 

"While  he  was  a  genuine  scholar  within  his  appropriate 
sphere,  he  possessed  also  a  large  range  of  general  intelli- 
gence, though,  as  we  have  said,  without  that  devotion  to  any 
favorite  department  of  extra-professional  knowledge  which 
often  relieves  and  adorns  the  professional  life  of  studious  men, 
by  becoming  a  healthful  and  liberalizing  counterpart  to  their 
stated  routines  of  thought.  We  are  not  aware  that  he  was 
addicted  to  the  national  literature  of  any  one  modern  people, 
to  the  speculative  philosophies  which,  with  so  much  fallacy, 
have  also  developed  so  much  mental  vigor  and  splendor  in 
the  continental  intellect  of  Europe,  or  to  any  one  department 


RECOLLECTIONS     OF     DR.   OLIN.  477 

of  the  elegant  literature  of  our  language.  We  know  not  that 
he  had  more  than  a  sort  of  casual  acquaintance  with  these, 
formed  mostly  through  reviews.  With  the  current  history  of 
the  world,  in  politics,  science,  learning,  and  especially  relig- 
ion, he  had,  moreover,  more  than  the  usual  familiarity.  A 
remarkable  memory,  tenacious  of  even  statistics  and  names, 
doubtless  gave  him  in  this  respect  an  advantage  over  most 
intellectual  men. 

The  original  powers  of  his  mind  were,  however,  his  great 
distinction.  Arid  these,  like  his  person,  were  all  colossal — 
grasp,  strength,  with  the  dignity  which  usually  attends  it — a 
comprehensive  faculty  of  generalization,  which  felt  independ- 
ent of  details,  but  presented  in  overwhelming  logic  grand 
summaries  of  thought. 

This  comprehensiveness,  combined  with  energy  of  thought, 
was  the  chief  mental  characteristic  of  the  man.  Under  the 
inspiration  of  the  pulpit  it  often,  and  indeed  usually,  became 
sublime — we  were  about  to  say  godlike.  We  doubt  whether 
any  man  of  our  generation  has  had  more  power  in  the  pulpit 
than  Stephen  Olin ;  and  this  power  was  in  spite  of  very 
marked  oratorical  defects.  His  manner  was  quite  ungainly, 
his  gestures  quite  against  the  elocutionary  rules,  his  voice 
badly  managed,  and  sometimes  almost  painful  in  its  heaving 
utterances.  But  the  elocutionist  is  not  always  the  orator. 
While  you  saw  that  there  was  no  trickery  of  art  about  Dr. 
Olin,  you  felt  that  a  mighty,  a  resistless  mind  was  struggling 
with  yours  ;  you  were  overwhelmed — your  reason  with  argu- 
ment, your  heart  with  emotion. 

When  he  began  his  discourse,  your  attention  was  immedi- 
ately arrested  by  the  dignity  and  sterling  sense  of  his  re- 
marks. You  perceived  at  once  that  something  well  worth 
your  most  careful  attention  was  coming.  Paragraph  after 
paragraph  of  massive  thought  was  thrown  off,  each  showing 
a  gradually  increasing  glow  of  the  sensibility,  as  well  as  the 
mental  force  of  the  speaker.  By  the  time  he  had  fairly  en- 


478  LIFE    AND    LETTERS. 

tered  into  the  argument  of  the  sermon,  you  were  led  captive 
by  his  power ;  but  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  most 
effectually  subdued  you,  his  mighty  thoughts  or  his  deep  feel- 
ing. You  seldom  or  never  saw  tears  in  his  own  eyes,  but 
they  flowed  freely  down  the  cheeks  of  his  hearers.  Ever  and 
anon  passages  of  overwhelming  force  were  uttered,  before 
which  the  whole  assembly  seemed  to  bow,  not  so  much  in 
admiration  of  the  man  as  in  homage  to  the  mighty  truth. 
Such  passages  were  usually  not  poetic,  for  he  was  remarka- 
bly chary  of  his  imagery  ;  but  they  were  ponderous  with 
thought — they  were  often  stupendous  conceptions,  such  as 
you  would  imagine  a  Sanhedrim  of  archangels  might  listen 
to  uncovered  of  their  golden  crowns. 

At  suitable  periods  of  the  sermon,  which  usually  occupied 
from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  two  hours,  he  would  pause  briefly 
to  relieve  his  voice  and  his  feelings.  The  mental  tension  of 
his  audience  could  be  perceived  at  such  times  by  the  general 
relaxation  of  posture  and  the  simultaneous  heaving  respira- 
tion ;  but  as  soon  as,  with  a  peculiar  measured  dignity,  he 
resumed  the  lofty  theme,  all  eyes  were  again  fixed,  all  minds 
again  absorbed. 

Effective  as  was  his  preaching  usually,  it  was  not  always 
BO.  His  ill  health  sometimes  spread  a  languor  over  his  spirit 
which  no  resolution  could  throw  off.  We  spent  a  Sunday 
evening  with  him  after  he  had  failed,  as  he  thought,  in  a  ser- 
mon during  the  day.  He  referred  to  it  with  much  good  na- 
ture, and  remarked  that  his  history  as  a  preacher  had  taught 
him  to  expect  the  blessing  of  God  on  even  such  efforts.  He 
proceeded  to  relate  an  instance  which  occurred  during  his 
ministry  in  South  Carolina.  He  preached  at  a  camp-meet- 
ing, where  a  Presbyterian  clergyman,  who  was  to  address  the 
next  session  of  his  Synod  in  Charleston,  heard  him.  The 
Presbyterian  doctor  repeated  not  only  the  text,  but  substan- 
tially the  sermon,  before  his  clerical  brethren,  giving,  how- 
ever, full  credit  to  its  Methodist  author.  So  remarkable  a 


RECOLLECTIONS    OF     DR.    OLIN.  479 

fact  could  not  fail  to  excite  great  interest  among  the  people 
of  Charleston  to  hear  the  latter. 

He  at  this  time  occupied  the  Methodist  pulpit  of  that  city, 
and  the  next  Sunday  evening  his  chapel  was  crowded  with 
the  elite  of  the  community,  including  several  clergymen. 
He  preached  long,  and,  as  he  thought,  loud  and  confusedly  ; 
in  fine,  he  felt,  at  the  close  of  the  discourse,  confounded  with 
mortification.  He  sank,  after  the  benediction,  into  the  pulpit 
to  conceal  himself  from  view  till  the  assembly  should  be  all 
gone.  By-and-by  he  espied  some  eminent  individuals  appar- 
ently waiting  in  the  aisle  to  salute  him.  His  heart  failed. 
JNToting  a  door  adjacent  to  the  pulpit,  he  determined  to  escape 
by  it.  He  knew  not  whither  it  led,  but  supposed  it  communi- 
cated with  the  next  house,  which  had  once  been  a  parsonage, 
as  he  recollected  having  heard.  He  hastened  to  the  door, 
opened  it,  and,  stepping  out,  descended  abruptly  into  a  grave- 
yard, which  extended  beyond  and  behind  the  former  parson- 
age. The  night  was  very  dark,  and  he  stumbled  about  among 
the  tombs  for  some  time.  He  reached  at  last  the  wall  which 
closed  the  cemetery  in  from  the  street,  but  found  it  insur- 
mountable. Groping  his  way  to  the  opposite  side,  he  sought 
to  reach  a  back  street  by  penetrating  through  one  of  the  gar- 
dens which  belonged  to  a  range  of  houses  there.  It  was  an 
awkward  endeavor  in  the  darkness  and  among  the  graves, 
but  at  last  he  found  a  wicket  gate.  He  had  no  sooner  passed 
through  it  than  he  was  assailed  by  a  house  dog.  Having 
prevailed  in  this  encounter,  he  pushed  on  and  reached  the 
street,  with  some  very  reasonable  apprehensions  that  the 
neighborhood  would  be  alarmed  by  his  adventures.  He  now 
threaded  his  way  through  an  indirect  route  to  his  lodgings, 
passed  unceremoniously  to  his  chamber,  and  shut  himself  up 
for  the  night,  but  slept  little  or  none,  reflecting  with  deep 
chagrin  on  the  strange  conclusion  of  the  day.  On  the  mor- 
row he  hardly  dared  to  venture  out ;  but,  while  yet  in  his 
study,  Mr.  ,  one  of  the  first  citizens  in  Charleston,  and 


480  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

a  leading  officer  in  a  sister  denomination,  called  at  the  house. 
He  was  admitted  to  the  preacher's  study  with  reluctance ; 
but  what  was  the  astonishment  of  the  latter  to  hear  him  say 
that  the  sermon  of  the  preceding  evening  had  enabled  him 
to  step  into  the  kingdom,  after  many  years  of  disconsolate  en- 
deavors during  which  he  had  been  a  member  of  the  Church. 
The  same  day  a  lady  of  influential  family  came  to  report  the 
same  good  tidings.  Other  similar  examples  occurred  that 
morning,  and  this  failure  was  one  of  the  most  useful  sermons 
in  his  ministry.* 

His  style  was  somewhat  diffuse,  and  always  elaborate — too 
much  so  for  elegance.  Johnson  used  to  insist  that  his  own 
pompous  Latinism  was  an  effect  of  the  magnitude  of  his 
thoughts  ;  its  fantastic  collocations,  even  in  the  definitions  of 
his  dictionary,  stand  out,  however  inexorably  and  grotesquely, 
against  the  fond  conceit ;  the  critics  pronounced  his  verbiage 
a  result  of  his  early  study  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne.  False  in 
part  as  was  the  great  author's  apology,  it  was  also  in  part 
true.  He  had  a  magnitude  and  Roman-like  sturdiness  of 
thought,  which  demanded  capacious  expression,  though  the 
demand  was  exaggerated,  and  thus  became  a  characteristic 
fault  as  well  as  a  characteristic  excellence.  Dr.  Olin's  style 
was  affected  by  a  similar  cause,  but  not  to  such  a  faulty  ex- 

*  "  I  think,"  says  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wightman,  of  Charleston,  "  that  the 
sermon  referred  to  as  having  been  preached  in  Charleston  has  be- 
come confused  with  one  preached  in  Washington,  Georgia.  No 
doubt  he  preached  one  here  which,  at  the  time  of  its  delivery,  he 
considered  a  failure,  but  which,  after  developments,  proved  to  have 
been  signally  owned  of  God  in  communicating  peace  and  comfort  to 
several  estimable  persons.  I  believe  I  heard  it  myself,  and  I  recol- 
lect one  lady,  now  deceased,  who  was  brought  into  the  liberty  of  the 
children  of  God  while  hearing  it.  But  I  do  not  think  that  any  single 
pulpit  effort  of  his  here  ever  brought  into  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church  any  number  of  the  leading  citizens ;  but  a  sermon  at  Wash- 
ington, Georgia,  was  the  salient  point  of  a  most  powerful  revival,  ac- 
companied by  the  reported  results." 


RECOLLECTIONS     OF     DR.    OLIN. 


481 


tent.  The  defect  was  perceptible  in.  his  ordinary  conversa- 
tion, and  quite  so  in  his  extemporaneous  sermons.  In  some 
of  his  later  writings,  however,  he  seemed  to  escape  the  ex- 
cesses, while  he  retained  the  excellences  of  his  style. 

Dr.  Olin  was  gigantic  in  person.  His  chest  would  have 
befitted  a  Hercules ;  his  head  was  one  of  those  which  sug- 
gest to  us  preterhuman  capacity,  and  by  which  the  classic 
sculptors  symbolized  the  majesty  of  their  gods.  Though  of 
a  very  different  craniological  development,  it  could  not  have 
been  less  capacious  than  that  of  the  noted  American  premier; 
and,  crowning  a  much  more  lofty  frame,  must  have  present- 
ed, with  vigorous  health,  a  more  commanding  indication. 
This  Titanic  stature  was,  however,  during  most  of  his  life, 
smitten  through  and  through  with  disease  and  enervation. 
The  colossal  head  seemed  too  heavy  to  be  supported,  and  ap- 
peared to  labor  to  poise  itself.  The  eye,  somewhat  sunken 
in  its  large  socket,  presented  a  languid  expression,  though  re- 
lieved by  a  sort  of  religious  benignity  which  often  beamed 
with  feeling.  This  great  man  must  be  added  to  the  long 
and  melancholy  catalogue  of  self-martyred  students.  His  in- 
firmities commenced  with  his  college  life  ;  they  were  exas- 
perated by  his  labors  as  an  instructor  in  a  Southern  climate, 
and  have  been  the  burden  of  his  later  years,  almost  to  the 
exclusion  of  any  continuous  labors.  During  these  years,  his 
usefulness  has  been  confined  mostly  to  very  occasional  dis- 
courses, some  of  which  have  been  published  ;  the  quiet  but 
inestimable  moral  power  which  the  mere  official  presence  of 
such  a  man  can  not  fail  to  exert  over  any  responsibility  to 
which  he  is  related  ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  ministration 
of  example  under  circumstances  of  suffering  and  personal  re- 
ligious development. 

He  was  frankly  independent  in  his  opinions,  and  not  with- 
out what  would  be  called  strong  prejudices — no  uncommon 
accompaniment  of  powerful  minds.  He  was  decidedly  con- 
servative on  most  subjects,  though  early  inclined  to  political 
II  X 


482  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

liberalism.  On  the  rife  question  of  slavery,  he  shared  not 
the  strong  moral  sentiment  of  the  North,  yet  he  lamented  the 
institution  as  calamitous.  The  Fugitive  Slave  Law  he  de- 
plored as  a  necessary  evil,  and  was  favorahle  to  its  enforce- 
ment. He  inclined  to  stringent  institutions  of  government 
in  both  Church  and  State,  but,  at  the  same  time,  deemed 
our  own  Church  polity  susceptible  of  many  liberal  improve- 
ments, in  order  to  adapt  it  to  what  he  considered  the  de- 
mands of  the  times.  He  wished  to  see  the  period  of  our 
ministerial  appointments  prolonged.  He  was  especially  in- 
terested in  the  intellectual  improvement  of  our  ministry,  and 
was  one  of  the  warmest  friends  of  theological  education 
among  us.  Before  a  theological  school  was  begun  in  the 
Church,  he  wrote  home  from  London,  where  he  witnessed 
the  experiment  among  the  Wesleyans,  a  public  letter  urging 
the  subject  upon  the  attention  of  the  Church,  and  inclosing 
a  considerable  donation  toward  it.  He  believed  this,  indeed, 
to  be  the  capital  want  of  Methodism  in  our  day,  and  never 
disguised  the  conviction  amid  any  prejudice  to  the  contrary. 
He  entertained  sublime  views  of  the  missionary  enterprise, 
and  longed  and  labored  to  see  the  Church's  energies  amply 
brought  out  and  applied  to  this  work,  especially  in  the  for- 
eign field.  The  evangelization  of  the  world  he  deemed  an 
achievement  quite  practicable  at  this  day  to  Protestant  Chris- 
tendom. Some  of  his  discourses  on  the  subject  were  signal 
efforts  of  intellect  and  eloquence. 

On  the  night  of  the  15th  of  August,  1851,  it  was  our 
mournful  privilege  to  stand  in  a  small  and  silent  circle  by 
the  death-bed  of  this  good  and  great  man.  The  herculean 
frame  lay  helpless  and  heaving  in  the  last  struggle.  "  I  hope 
in  Christ  (pointing  with  his  finger  upward) — most  certainly 
in  Christ  alone !  I  believe  I  shall  be  saved,  though  as  by 
fire  !"  were  among  the  last  utterance's  of  the  dying  sufferer. 
Early  the  next  morning  he  was  no  more  among  men. 


INTELLECTUAL,     POWER.  483 

"We  quote  still  another  sketch  of  Dr.  Olin's  charac- 
ter, written  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  M'Clintock,  editor  of  the 
Methodist  Quarterly  Review,  for  the  pages  of  that 
journal : 

"  His  life  was  a  simple,  earnest  striving  for  moral  purity — 
something  far  nobler  than  the  highest  aims  of  mere  human 
ambition.  It  could  almost  be  said  of  him — so  free  was  his 
beautiful  soul  from  all  merely  earthly  aspirations,  as  a  wise 
man  said  of  himself — '  that  he  cared  not  for  monument,  his- 
tory, or  epitaph,  not  so  much  as  that  the  bare  memory  of  his 
name  should  be  found  any  where  but  in  the  universal  register 
of  God.'  .... 

"  Dr.  Olin  was  a  man  of  remarkable  organization.  His 
physical  and  mental  proportions  were  alike  gigantic.  His 
intellect  was  of  that  imperial  rank  to  which  but  few  of  the 
sons  of  men  can  lay  claim.  At  once  acute,  penetrating,  and 
profound,  it  lacked  none  of  the  elements  of  true  mental  great- 
ness. We  have  known  many  men  far  superior  to  him  in  ac- 
quired learning  ;  but  for  breadth  and  comprehensiveness  of 
range,  for  vigor  and  richness  of  thought,  for  fertility  and 
abundance  of  invention,  we  have  never  met  his  equal.  The 
great  things  that  he  did  in  preaching,  in  talking,  in  writing, 
for  the  last  thirty  years  of  his  life,  were  accomplished  rather 
by  observation  and  thought  than  by  reading  or  study ;  of 
these  his  uncertain  health  made  him  incapable.  Yet  his  ac- 
quisitions were  of  no  mean  order  ;  a  broad  and  deep  founda- 
tion had  been  laid  in  the  severe  studies  of  his  youth  and  ear- 
lier manhood  ;  and  he  had  a  wonderful  sort  of  intuition,  if 
such  it  may  be  called,  into  all  forms  of  human  thought  and 
knowledge.  His  judgment  was  so  profound,  that  on  all  sub- 
jects of  an  ethical,  political,  or  religious  character  his  a  pri- 
ori judgments  were  of  more  value  than  most  other  men's  con- 
clusions on  the  largest  collection  of  facts  would  be. 

"  But  grand  as  was  Dr.  Olin's  intellectual  being,  his  moral 


484  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 

life  was  still  grander.  So  overshadowing,  indeed,  was  its 
majesty,  that  we  can  hardly  contemplate  any  portion  of  his 
nature  apart  from  it.  The  whole  truth,  were  we  to  set  it 
down  as  our  eyes  see  it,  would  perhaps  be  judged,  by  those 
who  did  not  know  Dr.  Olin,  to  be  but  another  addition  to  the 
fond  exaggerations  of  friendship.  We  see  so  much  of  earth- 
liness  in  men,  even  in  men  of  deservedly  high  name  and  sta- 
tion, that  it  is  hard  to  believe  in  a  life  free  from  this  base 
alloy.  If  man  can  be  free  from  it,  he  was.  He  walked  on 
in  the  daily  path  of  life,  spending  his  great  mind  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  humblest  of  his  fellows  more  cheerfully  than  if  he 
had  been  serving  kings — in  the  world,  working  for  the  world, 
but  not  of  it.  Presenting  in  himself  an  embodiment  of  the 
loftiest  ideal  of  human  purity  and  love,  it  was  the  effort  of 
his  life  to  raise  others  to  breathe  in  his  own  celestial  heights. 

"  Not  that  lie  felt  himself  to  be  thus  elevated.  The  crown- 
ing beauty  of  his  whole  nature  was  its  humility.  Severe  as 
was  his  virtue,  he  knew  too  well  that,  after  all,  it  was  not 
his  ever  to  know  or  think  himself  more  virtuous  than  others  ; 
and  so  charity,  the  meek  attendant  of  humility,  was  ever  by 
his  side.  In  all  things  else  but  intellectual  and  moral  pride 
he  would  have  been  a  fit  companion  for  those  great  spirits 
that  taught  of  old  in  the  Stoa,  or  discoursed  of  virtue  and 
beauty  in  the  groves  of  the  Academy.  He  had  their  su- 
preme love  of  truth  ;  he  had  their  profound  contempt  for  all 
that  is  low,  groveling,  and  earthly  ;  but  he  had,  too,  what 
they  had  not,  a  clear  apprehension  of  the  relation  between 
man  and  his  Creator,  and  a  deep  sense  of  the  corruption  and 
debasement  of  humanity  as  estranged  from  God. 

"  And  the  basis  of  this  high  morality  was  laid  in  pure  re- 
ligion— in  an  humble  and  total  self-consecration  to  the  service 
of  God,  his  Creator,  and  in  a  most  ardent  love  of  Christ,  his 
Redeemer.  He  had  but  one  aim  in  life — to  realize  a  high 
idea  of  Christian  holiness,  and  so  to  promote  Christ's  kingdom 
upon  earth.  To  this  point  all  his  studies  tended  ;  for  this  all 


GENIAL     NATURE.  485 

. 

his  intellectual  treasures  were  lavished ;  for  this  he  freely 
spent  his  worldly  goods ;  to  this  he  devoted  health,  and 
strength,  and  life. 

' '  The  highest  style  of  man  is  that  which  combines  a  lov- 
ing heart  with  high  intellectual  and  moral  power.  A  more 
genial  and  affectionate  nature  than  Stephen  Olin's  we  never 
knew.  His  religious  affections  overflowed  in  the  broadest 
Christian  sympathy  for  the  race  ;  while  upon  his  family  and 
friends  he  lavished  a  wealth  of  love  which  few  men  are  en- 
dowed with.  His  social  life  was  all  affection  and  tender- 
ness. With  his  friends  there  was  no  restraint  or  reserve. 
His  whole  heart  was  poured  forth  in  the  gushing  flow  of  sym- 
pathy. He  delighted,  too,  in  all  the  manifestations  of  affec- 
tion— '  in  the  detail  of  feeling — in  the  outward  and  visible 
signs  of  the  sacrament  within — to  count,  as  it  were,  the  very 
pulses  of  the  life  of  love.' 

"  With  such  qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  it  is  not  wonder- 
ful that  he  was  pre-eminent  as  a  preacher.  In  overmaster- 
ing power  in  the  pulpit,  we  doubt  whether,  living,  he  had  a 
rival,  or  dying,  has  left  his  like  among  men.  Nor  did  his 
power  consist  in  any  single  quality — in  force  of  reasoning,  or 
fire  of  imagination,  or  heat  of  declamation — but  in  all  com- 
bined. His  course  of  argument  was  always  clear  and  strong, 
yet  interfused  throughout  with  a  fervid  and  glowing  passion 
— the  two  inseparably  united  in  a  torrent  that  overwhelmed 
all  who  listened  to  him.  His  was,  indeed,  the 

•• ;  Seraphic  intellect  and  force, 

To  seize  and  throw  the  doubts  of  man  ; 
Impassion'd  logic  which  outran 
The  hearer  in  its  fiery  course.' 

"  Of  his  writings  we  have  left  ourselves  no  room  to  speak. 
It  is  the  grand  totality  of  his  character  that  we  have  sought 
to  express ;  yet  our  feeble  utterances  have  fallen  below  our 
aim.  His  life,  his  spirit,  and  his  death,  are  fitly  embodied 


486  LIFE     AND     LETTERS. 


in  a  noble  strain  of  Wordsworth's,  that  reads  almost  as  if  it 
were  written  for  him  : 

" '  Who  is  the  happy  warrior  1  who  is  he 
That  every  man  in  arms  would  wish  to  bet 

'Tishe 

Who  fixes  good  on  good  alone,  and  owes 
To  virtue  every  triumph  that  he  knows — 
Who,  if  he  rise  to  station  of  command, 
Rises  by  open  means,  and  there  will  stand 
On  honorable  terms,  or  else  retire, 
And  in  himself  possess  his  own  desire — 
Who,  therefore,  does  not  stoop  or  lie  in  wait 
For  wealth,  or  honors,  or  for  worldly  state — 
Whom  they  must  follow — on  whose  head  must  fall. 
Like  showers  of  manna,  if  they  come  at  all — 
Who,  while  the  mortal  mist  is  gathering,  draws 
His  breath  in  confidence  of  Heaven's  applause — 
This  is  the  happy  warrior — this  is  he, 
Whom  every  man  in  arms  should  wish  to  be.' " 


THE     END. 


TTHF    T  TRW  AttV 


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